only the jodi

A search for simplicity, sobriety, compassion, & the right man. Or at least not another wrong man.
September 2nd, 2010

god’s graffiti

jodi sh doff  : onlythejodi : gods graffiti : BQE traffic

Saturday morning on the BQE. 8am. 9am. 10am.~jshd2010

Sometimes, when I’m stuck in a never ending line of traffic.
When even though I’m pointed in the right direction, nothing seems to be moving,
– or at least not fast enough.
When the heat gets turned up just a little too high.
When it seems like I’m never going to get where I’m going.
When I start thinking about ditching it all.

I just need to look around.
XXXXXSee where I’m really at
XXXXXXXXXXRead the writing on the wall
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXAnd simply follow directions.

jodi sh doff  : onlythejodi : gods graffiti : BQE billboard

the burning bush ~jshd2010

March 7th, 2010

taking pictures of god

There’s a Sufi poet, Hafiz (the best translations are the ones by Daniel Ladinsky).  Hafiz writes love poems to God. This is one of my favorites.

Every child has known God

Every child has known God,
Not the God of names,
Not the God of don’ts,
Not the God who ever does Anything weird,
But the God who knows only four words.
And keeps repeating them, saying:
“Come Dance with Me , come dance.”

Everyone wonders what God looks like. People want to have some concrete vision of their higher power, some small box to put God in, some physical container or body. Museums are filled with paintings and sculptures of Catholic, Jewish, Hindu, Muslim, Egyptian, Greek, Roman gods.

I think if you want to know what God looks like, you just have to open your eyes a little bit. your heart a little bit. your ears a little bit. and then, get out of your own way and listen…

with your heart.

I took this picture of God for you, while I was driving:

jodi sh doff  : onlythejodi : pictures of god : feather

I know, I shouldn’t have. But the law only requires a handsfree phone, no one’s said about a handsfree camera. We were stuck in traffic. It was 50 degrees out, my sunroof was open, my windows rolled down, the music was playing, the sun was shining.

I keep this feather in my visor. It’s from one of the  guinea fowl at the farm. In case wings and flight aren’t big enough convincers, if you look, you can see God in the polka dots.

I can’t even get the books on my bookshelves to line up evenly, but look at that. Polka dots. Home grown polka dots. How simple. How orderly. How impossible.

I did not take this picture of god:

jodi sh doff  : onlythejodi : pictures of god : hubble

This was taken by the Hubble Telescope (not to be confused with this Hubble, also at one point in history, sometimes confused with God). Amazing, no? Total chaos. Totally beautiful. The origins of the word, awesome. These are candid snapshots of the universe, dancing. The origin of the phrase “Dance like no one is watching,” no doubt.(Click here for a slideshow of more photos)

Another bit by Hafiz before I go. I carry this one with me.

Manic Screaming

We should make all spiritual talk simple today
God is trying sell you something but you don’t want to buy

That is what your suffering is:
your fantastic haggling
your manic screaming
over
price.

But I get it, I really do. That need to put a face to the concept of God. A long time ago I heard a woman say that when she thought of God, she thought of tag team wrestling. And that way, when life got too hard, she could just tag God, and God would take the rest of that round until the bell rang. And she could rest a bit. That way, there was always someone in her corner.

I can wrap my brain around that… and so, my dashboard Jesus looks like this, because God comes in a million colors, and so do luchadores.

jodi sh doff  : onlythejodi : pictures of god : luchadore

February 28th, 2010

we can drive all night, she said

jodi sh doff  : onlythejodi : drive all night : driving

I’m driving and the music is blasting.

Frequently.

There are certain bands, certain music that is meant to be listened to in a car, windows open, flying down the road.

I’m starting to come out of a depression that has lasted months. Driving is one of the things I do to fix things. When I don’t know what to do, when I don’t know how I feel or how to name the thing I’m feeling, I run.

I’m a runner from way back. There was never an actual event I could pinpoint and say “I’m running away because…” Mostly I was running in search of. In search of some way to handle feeling…anything. It’s what I do when I don’t know what to do. It’s what I did when I didn’t know what to do.

The first time I ran away from home I was 5 and didn’t make it past the kitchen. I was lured back by the promise of stuffed cabbage.

When I was 7 I made it to the corner, where I stood flummoxed. I had no plan that addressed going off the block.

By 9 I made it to Dunkin Donuts, a mile away, across a four lane highway

At 11 I’d traded room & board for a job on a ranch 100 miles upstate. I got caught 30 miles away on the ticket line at Grand Central Station.

When I was 15, I found a partner in crime. We’d made it 100 miles on our way to California before we got caught at Fort Dix, NJ and dragged home.

Shortly after that, just as people stopped coming after me when I ran away, I learned to drive. To drive fast. To drive fast, to drive all night, to crank the music, so loud it would blast the voices out of my head, take me to Empty, or Fill me Up — whatever was needed at the moment.

The drugs and the drink worked too.

Until they didn’t.

That instinct has never gone away; the urge to run, flee, get free, get far away from anything familiar or anyone who could possibly know me or love me, keep moving, you can’t hit a moving target. I’ve just learned to channel it a little better, recognize it when it calls.

Today I drive. I drive and listen to god. Or I drive and write, scribbling notes in a pad with my right hand while my left hand steers. And still, sometimes, I drive. fast. with the music cranked up, so loud it blasts the voices out of my head, taking me to Empty or Filling me Up. Whichever I need at the moment.

I’m listening to Eddie Money and rocketed back to an awkward adolescence on Long Island, desperate for a way out. I hear his saxophones and then it’s Eddie and Cruisers and there is a way out, I can still fade into the Dark Side if I drive fast enough, if the music is loud enough.