A Moment in Conscious Thought

O the fine evening.

Roommate had ambushed me in the morning: "Dood I invited our Patroness to come to dinner tonight at 7:00."

And I: "Really?"

And he: "Yeah you'll be here right?"

And "Of course."

Our Patroness: A lovely older woman from the Church, she gives us each gift cards for the grocery store each month & when I first moved here provided me with: my bed, a chair, a heap of food, blankets, towels. One of the delights of Catholicism in Roseburg and clearly deserving a meal.

Yet what to cook? Roommate is not capable of such feats, it falls upon me. & Our place is a mess! & what if they don't like it! &, and, ...

I arrived home early at 4:00 and scrambled to make the kitchen at least presentable. Fret, stress, worry. I have recently become brilliant at stir-fry, at least according to my own tastes: this is what I shall make.

6:40: Put on the rice, prepare tofu, peppers, onions, broccoli, bean sprouts. Chicken for the carnivores. Soy sauce, garlic, curry powder, red pepper. Simple, tasty, fuckupable nevertheless.

7:00: The Patroness arrives; Roommate's unfortunate music is playing, dinner not quite prepared. The Patroness has brought strawberries (organic and in season) and the tastiest chocolate cookies in America (here the blogger pauses a moment to go and retrieve one from the kitchen).

7:10ish: "I believe -- I believe -- that this meal is ready." Serve, pause, prayer.

From They: "This is delicious!"

From I: Profound sigh of relief.

Now Dinner ended, I finishing before the others as always & dipping first into the strawberries and cookies, and the conversation turned toward religion. Here became a moment of discomfort: But after a time Patroness said (of a conservative member of the Church), "I don't care if he doesn't like it that I call the Holy Spirit 'She.'"

And then I was okay with speaking.

***

A break in the narrative: I looked down just now to see a tiny bug crawling across one of my papers. This would not normally bother me, except that I am typing this sitting in bed. I looked closely at the little creature, could not identify it, worried it might be a. a flea or b. a bedbug; squashed it with my fist.

I am not proud of this act.

What to make of it? "Own your doings, Stephen." I claim this bed as my territory, & will not allow a parasite; if Bug had wandered into the home of an ant colony, it would have met the same gruesome fate.

A little prayer for its soul.

***

Patroness then referred to a book that talked about a Scriptural basis for understanding the femininity of God, though said, its attempt (at Scripturizing God-as-also-Woman) was weak. The conversation continued, and this thought occurred to me:

"But If God created the universe out of nothing" (I said) "then God had noone but godself to refer to in the creation; therefore, God must necessarily encompasses manhood and womanhood, also treehood and cathood and rockhood. Other else where do the concepts of these things come from?"

This thought must not be original, but I had never thought it before, and I was excited.

***

What is intention?

I killed that bug on purpose, I killed it as an act of preemptive possible self-defensive, preventive war, if you will.

Do oceans mind when they squash cities with their hurricane fists, and are we all just forces of nature? Yes, we are, but that's not at all the point. The sea cares, or it does not; can, or cannot that it kills human beings dogs and mangroves; it's not for us to know, all we know is that we can care, and should.

I think.

***

The evening ended on a pleasant note. Coffee, tea, and promises of Let's do this again. The Patroness left and I sat down happily on the couch, singing a song I haven't thought of in a while, the Serenade by Oscar Wilde:

The Western Wind is blowing fair
Across the dark Aegean sea.
And at the secret marble stair,
My Tyrian galley waits for thee:
Come down! the purple sail is spread,
The watchman sleeps within the town,
O leave thy lily-flowered bed,
And lady mine come down!

Come down!
Lady come down!
Come down!
Lady come down.

She will not come, I know her well,
Of lover's vow she hath no care
And little good a man could tell,
Of one so cruel and so fair!
True love is but a woman's toy,
They never know a lover's pain;
And I who love as loves a boy
Must love in vain--Must love in vain!

Come down!
Lady come down!
Come down!
Lady come down...