for whit and lindsay.

instead of writing the three papers i have due, ive been thumbing through vera britain's diary from world war I. pathetically, this is a normal late night activity for me. i cant get enough of this war. maybe because ive experienced what its like to have the hope and innocence of your soul crushed when you lose a person you love, to experience what its like to be forever changed by one event, just as the very fabric of the world was changed by this first enormous war, never to return to its state of innocence. they marched off singing, and they never came back, young boys with futures, with wives, with girlfriends, with beating hearts stilled by gunshots. i feel like i can hear the silence of the night, after the battle was over, when bodies lay unmoving and the stars came out. i stumbled across this passage in which vera describes losing her fiancee roland in battle and i wanted to share, because i think it is beautiful, and because i know it is true:

"perhaps one can never rise to the heights until one has gone down into the depths--such depths as I have known of late. Perhaps I shall one day rise, and be worthier of him who in his life both in peace and in war, and in his death on the fields of France, showed me the 'way more plain.' At any rate, if I do face danger and suffering with some measure of heroism, it will be because I have learnt through him that love is supreme, that love is stronger than death and the fear of death."

through watching my mom suffer, i learned those things too vera. i know without the depths we would never learn to rise. some of my most favorite people are going through those depths right now. but i know they too saw someone they love face suffering with heroism, with courage, and with faith, and that they will rise to the heights one day because they have to experience the depths right now. somehow there is beauty in the suffering and a strengthening of the soul, a sweetness that assures me we are all part of something much bigger than we even know. love is supreme, and stronger than death. stronger than fear. i might not know a lot of things, but that is one thing i am sure of, because it is a force much more powerful and real than us all, knitting hearts together around the world and connecting us to the living and the dead, those that have come before and those that are to come. hallelujah.

the universe is speaking, if you listen to it.

i am a student of the universe. i may make lots of mistakes, but no one can say i dont learn from them, and the mistakes of everyone else around me. im a quick learner. and i love to learn. pay attention to the universe. it will tell you things, and if you listen, your life will be a lot better. you will not necessarily experience less pain, heartache, discomfort, or sadness. you may experience more. those are usually good things, because they are signs that you are stumbling forward and doing things that make you uncomfortable. you will also experience a lot more love, a lot more real, a lot more strength, a lot more compassion, a lot more goodness, a lot more yes. the universe loves you. so love it back. give it a hug. things i have recently learned from mother universe:

1. take risks (in shannonelizabeth lingo: believe in yes).
sometimes you have to send your heart out into the universe, even at the chance of complete obliteration. its good for you. believe in yes. i believe in wearing neon in public. i believe in dancing like no one is watching. send it flying. it will always feel good, even when it hurts like h@#4.

2. keep it real.
sometimes people ask me how im doing and i say im having a bad day and then they feel uncomfortable. its okay. i like being real, and sometimes its okay for me to say it like it is, even if no one wants to hear it. im allowed to be real. you're allowed to be real. tell someone how you really feel next time they ask, even if they dont care a lick. it will feel liberating.

3. get yo naughty on.
not naughty like what youre thinking, but its okay to giggle during prayers. its okay to skip class. its okay to not be perfect. sometimes its okay to act like you are three. its good for the soul. drink soda on occasion. eat candy. eat ding dongs. stay up until 4 am. and then dont worry about it.

4. cop a feel.
im glad that i feel things so deeply. joy. sorrow. laughter. they are all good. they are all beautiful. allow yourself to feel, even though its hard. it feels good. and trust your intuition. its usually right. pay attention to how you feel. your heart knows.

5. listen up.
laugh like you mean it. cry like you mean it. live like you mean it. and listen to what the universe tells you, because its usually right. its been around longer than you.

hope you've learned some good things from the universe in times past as well. feel free to share with me and the world wide web, cause i feel like im just talkin and talkin and hogging all the attention, and al gore invented the internet for all to be heard.

its time to stop soul crushing.

if you know me or have had more than a 6 minute conversation with me, you know i love the soul. the soul is the real you, the bluebird that wants to sing out the message you have inside, the sermon to loveliness and realness and poppies and sunshine and childhood and yes and it is fragile and soft and beautiful and all things good and lovely in the world. i say lots of things are my favorite activity, but my #1 favorite activity in life is finding out the message of people's souls. nothing makes me happier. sometimes it takes hacking down brick walls with a shovel and reaching like you've never reached before, pounding with both fists, getting out your chainsaw, but i can usually find it with time and effort. the thing is, its usually worth the investment, because people's souls are incredibly beautiful. i like to visualize what every person's soul looks like--a seaside mural, a lone bluebird warbling to the heavens, the sound of claire de lune by debussy, a field of poppies stretching out forever. sometimes the soul is buried so deep you can't even see it at first, but its always there, and people want to share their souls, even if they feel nervous at first. everyone wants to be understood. everyone wants to be real. the problem is, life beats you up and people are mean and people bruise each other's bluebirds, so you push your soul down to the dark interior of your being, covering it all up in a big pile of meaninglessness and defenses, defending your soft heart with walls of apathy and jadedness. i guess what got me down today is i realized there is enough hunger, poverty, sadness, depression, illness, and so forth in the world to crush people's souls, that no one needs other people crushing their soul too. the universe is capable of enough soul crushing on its own, without people helping it along. the scary thing is the soul crushing done by other people is the most devastating. look at the holocaust. look at the wife you know who is desperate for her husband's attention. look at the lonely girl that feels like she has no friends. look at the abused child. sometimes people don't even realize they are doing it, but i see it happening everyday, all the time, and sometimes i just want to yell out to the world wake up! pay attention! you are crushing people's souls! you are crushing my soul! sometimes its just not caring, or not showing people you care, or treating people like less than the bluebirds they are, or being so inwardly wrapped up that you can't look beyond yourself to other souls in need. in a song by jewel (i know, who quotes jewel), she says we are all fragile flames. i agree. we are all gold inside, buried treasures, warbling bluebirds, and we should treat each other as such. we are all fragile. in a poem i wrote once i said cup the bluebird in tiny hands, gently, gently (i love to quote myself). in a much better poem t.s. eliot wrote, he ends it with this:

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

i feel like that whimper is the last sound of the soul as it is dying, crushed too many times by too many people not caring, too many people not listening, too many people not treating each other right, too many people forgetting to tell other people they matter.

im sending a desperate plea out into the internet world right now. a message in a blog bottle. this is what it says:

dear humanity,
be gentle with each other. be nice to each other. care about each other. look for people's bluebirds. care about the message of their soul. tell them they matter. cup their bluebirds in tiny hands, and never, ever bruise it, even when you are tempted to. help combat hunger by loving your neighbor. we're all hungry. stop soul poverty by listening. we are all poor. fight against cancer by spreading love. we all have cancer of the heart. leave notes. if you think something nice in your head, say it. hug your mom. kiss your girlfriend. tell people how you feel. give gifts. ask people about themselves. care enough to listen to their answer. remember their answers. don't crush souls. build souls. pay attention . make people feel like they matter. forget yourself. be good. be true. help people's bluebirds come out and sing. be sincere. be real. let your bluebird out even when its hard. even when people bruise it. be a sermon to loveliness. sing like the mountains are singing back. its a happier way to be. its time to stop contributing to the soul crushing. its time to combat the soul crushing, and it starts with a listening ear and a quiet hug and finding the beauty deep in each person's heart. we'll get better with practice. but we got to start somewhere, so i say we start today, right now, at 6:53 PM on Wednesday April 9, 2008. i know we can do it humanity. its up to us.

sincerely,
shannon elizabeth mehner.

shes keepin it real. im really into blogging about people i love these days.

her parents are hippies. her mom dated prefontaine. i met her at the age of 14, when i was still wearing pleather pants and chasing the cool. she was something real in a sea of high school. sometimes your soul tells you where to go even when your mind isn't grown up enough to know why you're being led somewhere. we were different. i loved makeup. she loved soccer. i loved kevin jones. she loved jack kerouac. from the outside, it looked like a mismatch. but my soul conquered, and we became friends. birds of a feather flock together, even when one of the birds is dressed in pleather. im glad my soul is smarter than i am.

we liked music. we liked books. we liked hating on high school. we liked hanging out with our friends that had graduated and were so college hip. we liked sitting in her station wagon and discussing our mature 16 year old perspectives on life and teenage social classes. shes probably the only real friend i had in high school. real as in she actually cared, real as in she let the bluebird out of her heart once in a while even at the risk of social rejection and bluebird bruising by 17 year olds trying to win battle for biggest biotch. i was buried in coolness and insecurities and unsureties, but she dug deep and she found me. she was probably the first person beyond my family that really dug into me like that, that stuck her shovel in and said lets find something real even though you've covered yourself in black eyeliner. she taught me how to listen to the bluebird in my heart. she appreciated my bluebird. she told me "damnit, let your bluebird sing! He has such a lovely voice!" she is just one of those people. she is real. she can't not be.

i got a boyfriend. we drifted apart. i still hate that situation even though we reconciled over aim (a reunion of wnderchic and irbysan). we love each other again. we dont talk that often these days, but ill never forget. you dont forget stuff like that, becuase it is filed away in your soul's permanent files, with a sticky note that says "this person changed me forever," and a reminder on your to do list--"thank so and so for helping to create me."

well its time for some spring cleaning cause my soul is tired of piles of untouched to do lists. thank you meredith irby for helping to create me--thank you for seeing beyond the pleather. you are a hippie among men, a bluebird among sparrows, a reality in a world of high schoolers chasin the cool, and ill never forget that you helped me learn how to sing.

the mujer from tennessee. or a tribute to one of the best.

her name is deanna. she is 5'8,'' wears a size 10 shoe, is from Tennessee, cusses like a sailor, and pulled herself up by the boot straps in life. She's the kind of person that flips you the double bird if you say she can't do something. she hates exercise, loves colors and big earrings, and will become your best friend in 3 minutes. she got discounted lunches in elementary school because her mom didn't make enough to pull them above the poverty line. her southern drawl comes out something fierce when she gets mad.

when she was 18 she decided to go to mexico. the folks at home didnt know why she wanted to go to a dirty country full of dirty people. but she flipped them the double bird and said "forget you, im going". and she did. she fell in love with a name named jorge. he bought her earrings and was fascinated by this mujer from tennessee, a whirlwind of woman that knew her mind and burped in public. he wooed her with flowers and promises. he was lying. he broke her heart.

it didnt matter. she flipped him the double bird and said you can't keep me down, and you cant ruin mexico for me. mexico changed her life. a part of her heart opened. a whole country full of horchata and laughing and hospitality. it reminded her of the south. she had to come home at the end of the summer, but she couldnt forget the scent of mexican laundry.

she changed her major to latin american studies. her mom threw a fit. she flipped her the double bird and said "sorry mama, but this is what i want for my life". she couldnt forget the faces of the people. she couldnt get rid of the feeling that she belonged there, that the people needed her. a small town girl with big dreams, and a love for fiestas.

so she went back to mexico, flipping double birds by the minute to everyone telling her she was crazy. she studied migration. she peed on the ground and lived on a rancho. she didnt understand why these people had to eat beans for every meal and didnt know how to read. she wanted to say to the mexican government "what the hell is going on?" and flip them the double bird. she didn't, because she'd get shot and she'd have to practice her spanish a bit more before that. but she kept on caring.

she came back and kept studying. she still misses mexico. she dreams of swimming across that wide river that divides mexico from texas alongside the wetbacks coming over to pick fruit to make enough cash to buy their children shoes. she says shes going to wear her tennessee drivers license on a chain around her neck, and when the border patrol shoots her down thinking shes an illegal, boy theyre going to be in for a surprise. "we shot one of our own!" theyre going to say, and maybe someone will think about that a little bit. when she tells you about this dramatic death she has planned for herself, she laughs, but you can tell she means it. "one of our own?" she finishes, her face getting more somber. "I bet thats what God says about everyone they shoot in that river."

maybe one day she will swim across that river with her tennessee drivers license hanging around her neck. maybe one day she'll convince the world mexicans are people too, people that deserve shoes for their children. for now, she is deanna, the mujer from tennessee that flips the double bird to people that try to keep her caged, a free bird singing in a southern drawl, and one of my best friends.