Roadmap To Holland

This is a video by my extraordinary friend, Jennifer Graf Groneberg. I recommend her book, her blog, and her website to anyone who loves see beauty, hear truth, and read the kind of writing they can't put down.

Meet My Sister Joan

You know, I've seen a lot of pictures of people dressed up as vampires on the web, but I don't think I've ever seen one this good.

Frightening, isn't she?

Evidently she had some fangs in the back seat of her car (well, who doesn't?) and, as she put it, "had a little time" on her hands.

No really: she's a NICE person.
And not a vampire.
And I just had to share.

Thanks, Balone.

Reader Question

Dear PVS,

Why are so many women vampires to their sisters -- to other women, I mean?? I know several women who are nice to your face but the back-biting that goes on when you turn around is incredible.
I have taken myself out of several circles of friends because of this and have started to be with people who are truly accepting of one another and are truly spiritual. These people are not easy to find, however, because like me, they keep their distance.

Some insight would be great!!

Janet

Hi Janet,

You know, before I sobered up and started practicing some spiritual principles myself, I was pretty mistrustful of women...well, actually, I was pretty mistrustful of everyone...but it's funny how many women I know today who have relationships with other women who they don't trust at all!

I always feel so shocked when they tell me about their girlfriends who they feel are lying or, as you say, "back-biting," I guess because having those kinds of relationships ended for me so long ago now that I just think: Why would you want to be friends with someone who behaves that way anyhow?

And that sounds pretty much like the question you asked yourself, and answered, too: it sounds like you've made the choice to have relationships with people who are seeking the same depth, honesty, and trustworthiness in their friendships that you are.

But when I've asked people who've complained to me about these vampires whom they find so hard to trust, their reasons for staying in relationship with them often come down to politics: like the social politics of needing to be friendly with a vampire because that vampire is also friends with someone you really have a good friendship with; or it can be a problem of politics at work -- you know, like somebody you have to interact with about 40 hours a week, so of course you have to have a relationship with them of some kind. And of course it bothers you.

And Janet, I'm no expert on feminism but I know there are plenty of people who are, and they've written books about our culture that might help to answer your question -- but me? I'm just a vampire slayer, and I have the same solution for all vampires, whether they're men, women, organizations, institutions or whatever -- as far as I'm concerned, the answer is always the same: We bring both our vampires and ourselves into the light where we can get a better look at what's really going on and whether we want to continue in relationship with our vampires or not.

Then we take steps to be free: if not free of the vampire, at least free of feeling victimized by them -- since, in practical vampire slaying, we always look for the invitation we extended to our vampires to cross our thresholds (enter our lives) and for the ways in which we've kept the door open to them ever since.

Even just acknowledging that can bring us a LOT of freedom. At least that way we're not feeling victimized, and at least that way we're reminding ourselves that if we had the power to invite the vampire in, then we also have the power to revoke our invitation to them, too.

Either way: we free ourselves from our former draining relationships -- not only with our vampires, but with ourselves.

Obviously, it's difficult to summarize in one blog post -- but in any case, it seems from what you say that you've already looked at these relationships and made your decision to revoke your invitations to them. It sounds like you've decided to move on to new and more fulfilling relationships for yourself.

So: Good for you! And thanks so much for writing!

Sincerely,

PVS

The Prodigal Vampire: Finis

I was thinking about it as I was trying to get to sleep last night and I just know -- sure as you're born -- that some nice person out there reading my last post came to the end of what I'd written and had to have been at least a little put out by it.

"That’s not how the story of The Prodigal Son ends," they probably said to themselves, and, " I can’t believe she just dropped it that way– like the father threw this big party and then everyone was happy, and that was the end of it!"

Anyone who loves that other son as much as I do, I think, would have had to have noticed the missing ending -- and besides, it's only fair to finish a good story once you've started it. So here's what happens:

When the other son sees all this – the party, the killing of the fatted calf, the whole production – he goes to his father and says, “Hey, you know what, Dad? I’ve never asked you for my inheritance and then blown it all on prostitutes and wild living. I’ve stayed with you this whole time, working in the fields and behaving myself, and never once have you thrown a party for me. Never once have you killed a fatted calf for me or brought out any beautiful robes or anointing oils for me – so you can just forget about my coming to your little party. I think I'll just stay out here in these fields and keep working, if it's all the same to you."

To which the father responds: “You are my son, and everything I own is yours – all of this and everything for as far as the eye can see, belongs to you.

"But this is also my son, " he tells him, "who was lost, and now is found.

“So please,” he says, “come to party.”

Which the other son does. And I like to think he had a pretty good time, too.

The End.

When I was first recovering from my alcoholism and beginning on my journey to find a God of my understanding to help me recover and put my life into some kind of order – one personal to me that I could feel – it was a very difficult time for me. I began with nothing I could see or understand, hadn’t the least interest in seeking help with it from organized religion, and I couldn’t imagine how I was going to begin to find this God.

It’s a long story, but the point I want make here is that there have been times in my life when I’ve felt like the son who squanders his God-given fortune and anticipates the worst because of it, and other times I’ve felt like the good son who’s been behaving himself all along and then feels he isn’t getting near enough credit for it.

I believed at one time that if I just kept trying to be “good,” God would let me know that they (she/he/it) approved of me and would finally love me, too. I would see other people I felt were misbehaving terribly and listen with real indignation when they would speak of a God they knew in their lives who loved them.

I would think: “Well shit, what’s up with this party that God’s giving for them? No one’s been killing any fatted calves for me! And here I am, being so good!”

Anyway. That’s why I love the other son so much. And that’s all I’m going to say about it, too.

Lie.

There is one more thing I’m going to say, and it’s really just a disclaimer, for what it’s worth: I am not a Christian or member of any organized religion. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that I’m no more or less a Christian than I am more or less anything else, religiously speaking... but I sure do love a good story.

And I think that -- like screaming along to the noisiest and rock and roll, or like a slow trip through a museum of modern art, or like the attentive working of a jigsaw puzzle with my daughter, or like holding hands with my husband and knowing it – a good story is as fine as anyplace to find God.

As my hero Kurt Vonnegut once said: "Love is where you find it," and I would say that it is the same way with God.

Or rather, that it is the same thing with God -- the exact same thing, in fact.

The Prodigal Vampire

I'm afraid if I don't post something soon you guys are going to stop believing in all that stuff I said before about how "fine" I am with the cancer, so here's an update: I'm still fine, more or less. One chemo down, 3 to go, and I think the worst of the first chemo has passed. Or maybe it hasn’t. It’s sneaky stuff.

But I've been thinking a lot about cancer and vampires and prodigal sons in the past few months – and about healing, too, since that's what practical vampire slaying is really all about – healing, that is.

And here's the thing: When I first got my diagnosis and started looking at books about chemotherapy, I kept finding stories about people who saw themselves as being "at war" with their cancers. They'd say how they were envisioning these little chemo-soldiers with little grenades or whatever, going in and slaughtering all their cancer cells…and that’s okay, I guess; people can see themselves as going to war with their cancer if that's what they believe in and that's what works for them. But for me, the old "war" imagery just wasn't working at all.

I have a favorite story that you've probably heard at one time or another in your life (at least I bet you've heard about "the fatted calf" -- admit it, you have) and the truth is that I think it’s just about the most beautiful story that’s ever been written: it's called The Prodigal Son.

You know it?

Now there are so many things I love about this story that I could pick it up at any point at all and talk about why that particular part of it is so great, but for the moment let me just say that, for me, it is simply the most perfect story about the transformative power of Surrender, of Love, and of Community that I’ve ever heard.

It goes like this: A father has two sons. One day one of the sons comes to him and says, “Dad, I’d like my inheritance now. I don’t want to wait around for it, and I’m wondering if I could just take my half now instead of later.” So the father divides all he owns into half and gives one share to the son.

The kid takes off for faraway lands and has some pretty good times – times reportedly filled with wine, women, and song, and then what finally happens, of course, is that the money runs out, the booze dries up, the women disappear, and the kid wakes up one morning to find he’s squandered it all, and is living with pigs.

He takes a look around the pen and thinks to himself: “Even the servants in my father’s home live better than this. I know I don’t deserve to be a son anymore – I gave that up – but maybe I could go to my father and ask him if I can be a servant in his house.” And he starts down the road back to his father’s home to ask him.

Now if you’ve never heard this next part about how the father sees his son coming from afar – then up until now you’ve missed one of the most beautiful images in any story, anywhere, ever.

Because when the father sees the son coming from so far away, what do you think he does? Does he say, “I’m going to beat the crap outta that kid,” or, “I’m going to let him back in but first he’s going to get the lecture of his life?”

No. What the father says is this: “It's time for a party.” He calls to his servants to set the tables, bring out the finest robes, find the anointing oils, and kill the fatted calf – "My son,” tells them, “My son – who was lost, and now is found – is coming home.”

When I think about cancer and vampires and prodigal sons like that, I remember the father in this story -- the father who never thinks to abuse or even reprimand his son: there are no grenades being thrown from afar, no mean words waiting at home for the son – only love, only gratitude, and a big, beautiful celebration.

I’ve always been hard on myself, full of mean words and grenades. I have a series of lectures and cruel one-liners I’ve used on myself: “You’re fat, you’re stupid, you’re foolish, you’re ugly, etc.,” – vampires brought out with such regularity that I hardly even notice their feeding anymore, you know?

When I got my diagnosis – that very hour, that very second – all that stopped. It occurred to me to let loose some vampires, I guess: “This is no more than you deserve – all those years of smoking and drinking and being such an asshole,” but then it stopped. I think I realized for the first time that I couldn’t go on that way anymore, that I was going to have to start saying nice things to myself and loving this body and mind that’s given me life and taken me here and there – wherever I’ve chosen to go and without complaint, too.

"What a nice body!" I thought, "What a good mind!"

“I love you,” I told it, “and I’m sorry for all the mean stuff I’ve done to you and said to you, and I’m going to do my best to love you from now on, my good old pal,” I said. And then I gave my shoulder a little pat, and my hand a little kiss.

It seemed pretty weird, but I have to tell you, it was NICE – nice to love myself as I would my daughter or my husband, or any friend, to love myself without reservation, like the father in the story.

I won't be using the imagery of soldiers or grenades in my meditations about chemo. So far I'm trying to see the chemo as transformative light and a gentle touch to each cancerous cell.

And we'll see how that works instead.

P.S. To Jen:

congratulations

PLEASE JOIN ME ON THIS MOST EXCELLENT DETOUR

To Celebrate The Release Of

Jennifer Graf Groneberg's

ROADMAP TO HOLLAND

HOW I FOUND MY WAY THROUGH MY SON'S FIRST TWO YEARS WITH DOWN SYNDROME

Here's how it's going to look on the shelves when you go to buy it:

Isn't she beautiful?

And if you think she's gorgeous, just wait til you read her writing!

Her WEBSITE

Her BLOG

Where you can BUY IT

And all I'm going to tell you about it is this: Like Steinbeck, Jennifer somehow manages to get absolutely everything worth knowing about life into one simple story. This one here.

Congratulations, Jen.

Every So Often...

I get a little something in my mailbox that looks more or less like what follows below. This is an email I received last Wednesday.

First of all, Slayers are murderous asses. I knew a girl that was not vampir', only goth, and she was raped and murdered by so called slayers. I know many vampir' and they are not afraid of you. You mistakenly harm goths because they are weaker than the vampir', if you ever come across one that is real, you would be in itense trouble, and harmed yourself. Take warning.

Blackwood

Well the first thing I want to say is that I'm certainly pleased to see that people are reading -- reading anything, I mean, but especially that they're reading my blog.

I had the honor of tutoring English Composition during my short time in college, and that was the first thing I'd encourage my tut-ees to do -- TO READ. I'd tell them, boringly enough, "If you really want to learn how to write, then you really ought to learn how to read, too."

I'd almost always recommend they start with the clean, no-nonsense prose of Ira Levin (since so many of them simply needed to learn how to pay attention to what they were saying and to tighten it up; I'd always imagined that Levin's presence in New York made him a natural at clean, tight prose), and I remember throwing a lot of Stephen King and Dean Koontz their way, too. "Find something that makes you want to turn to the next page," I'd say, or," What kind of movies do you like?" I'd ask -- and we'd go from there.

So it makes me glad to see this sort of thing: people reading and people writing; the Internet is so great that way. But I have to wonder if some readers aren't skimming a bit, or whether these kinds of emails I get are simply perfect examples of how most of us see and hear only what we are ready to see and hear.

I mean, how little of my stuff do you have to read to understand that I'm not speaking of vampires in the literal sense that our friend Blackwood here is, or that practical vampire slaying isn't really so much about "murdering" or even "destroying" our vampires, as it is about "revealing" and "transforming" them?

It's a subject that's been much on my mind these days: revelations and transformations and prodigal vampires and all that.

Excuse me a moment, and I'll be back to talk some more about this.

And thanks for reading!