Honest much?

"The second one is deeply personal, and I think I've only ever given out the link once or twice. Strangely enough, I've deleted posts from it that I thought were too difficult to let others, even strangers see. But I know now that that shouldn't matter, and I will make an effort to overcome that issue" - a message I'd sent to my sisters in our collective group chat this morning when I told them that I intended to begin writing in my blogs again. The first is one of poetry and prose, and this.... well, I've already said. 

So much on my heart, but my brain seems to function little these days. I suppose that's one reason why I needed to start writing again. Sharpen up the ol' dull brain again. I have a lot of catching up to do here, and may or may not. Certainly I wish to continue recounting my life as a Sailor - what short time I have of that particular adventure left. Yes, short time indeed. Sixteen years down this past April. Wherever did the time go?

A poem I wrote in another blog

cloudy eyes and sailing thoughts


Again on watch, as my poetry goes
It seems like my only inspiration these days.
The olympiad sounds from the screen behind
But it's near three am so it's all replays.
If you'll wait a moment, I'll make a note
In the duty log, zero three hundred -- secure
Four and a half hours left, thank god!
Then out of this uniform and in bed for sure.
I'm distracted you know, so much going on
In my head: a constant tornado of sorts;
And I'm exhausted, can't wait for my thoughts
-Dissapointed ships- to secure in their ports.
So, driving home, soon - not soon enough
I'll breathe "Deo Gratias" at the thought of my bed
I so welcome sleep, which keeps me from thinking
And for a moment erases the things that were said.



(the url for this blog came from the title of this poem)

It was Christmas Day...

I lay prostrate on the ground and breathed out the last sincere words of the Christmas novena: Hail and blessed be...

Shortly thereafter I climbed into bed and thanked God for the wonderful Christmas He had blessed me with.

I don't know what came over me.  The low and deepening depression that had been lowering over my head for the past few months came to a point.  And without warning it pierced my heart like a sharp, cold iron spike.  I lay quietly in the dark on that frozen winter night, and without warning hot, sorrowful tears coursed slowly down my cheeks .

I will never forget you. I will always pray for you. And as I lay there I offered up the sadness in my heart to the Lord for you. That you will find your way, your happiness, and the will of God.

A year ago I bravely decided to open up my heart after ten long years of uncertainty and fear of.... i don't know what... and aknowledged that I love you.  And I did. And I still do. And I regret not a moment of it.

I pray that you will no longer be lost.

May the Divine Infant bless you and our holy Mother guide you always.

Let's be honest

I'll probably end up breaking my own heart... not the first time, hopefully the last.

Logic and reasoning are terrible and exacting masters.

It has to be done the right way, all the way.  We promised.   Let's keep that promise.

On Children and Lent

Children are such amazing creatures.  Teaching them to be adults long before their time is an art I think...  Of course, in doing so we need to be scrupulously careful to maintain their childhood and innocence.  But teaching them to share, to be kind, gentle, loving, forgiving, understanding, truthful, straightforward, etc. is setting them up to meet the world as adults in such a fashion that they can't help but conquer!  It's amazing how a two year old really does understand sharing and love.  It's even more amazing to see them demonstrate understanding that they can get away with the opposite. 
Jude is two.  The things Jude says are typical of a two year old, but since I don't live in the same household, it constantly takes me by surprise how much he understands, and the things that he says...  Two is still baby in my mind, but not infantile, and that's where I forget to remember.  He has so much personality and character, and quite the imagination.  It's like his mother said: at that stage they're not quite kid yet but not baby either.  I guess they're just a human version of a spring zephyr.
Anyways... I do tend to get distracted.  I'm talking about Jude, but what brought me to this topic, or rather who is Quinn, the four and a half year old.   He was telling me about a children's tv show that they gave up as a "sacrifice" for Lent.  Now I get it that a two and a four year old might not necessarily understand fully the connotation of making sacrifices, but in their own young hearts, they get it on a child's level.  They are of the understanding that sacrifices make them better people, and that they make God happy.  An innocent child needs to know only that... and it's good enough for them.  It's amazing, and it's beautiful.  About an hour later I hear Quinn complaining about something (I can't remember now) and his mother told him gently that he should offer it up as a Lenten sacrifice.  He agreed and stopped his complaining.
This is setting a child up to be a heroic adult.  To see the supernatural side of our so natural lives!  It's how the early Christians were able to smile in the face of the roaring lions that were about to tear them to pieces because they refused to compromise, even just a tiny bit, their beliefs. 
and I'm distracted again...  guess I should shower and get ready for the day.

Tiny interim

Wow, it's been several years since I've updated this blog.  Not that I've forgotten it - indeed it seems like just a few months ago that I last wrote herein.
So much has transpired since then.  Capped to First, transferred to Japan, four more deployments out to sea.  The last two were as the LPO of the shop and my goodness what a joy and utter heartache that was, all at the same time.  I'm grateful to have undergone it, and so glad it's over.  Took the Chief's exam, and didn't make board.  A blessing in disguise I assume.  I had a really good LDO package ready for this year.   Oh well.

I'm thirty three years old.  I remember my mom being 33.  I was ten.  She was pregnant with my little brother Dave, number six.  I'm still single, and generally content with that - not happy exactly, but content.  I've lived many successful years being satisfied with content.  Someday happiness will be mine.  Fortunately for me, I have joy in my heart.  A soul can go its entire life on the fruits of joy.  Happiness is not necessary - it's merely a happening, a moment or sequence of moments in time that make our hearts swell to near bursting.  The feeling is glorious and desirable, but without joy it fades quickly and the crash is terribly and woefully exhausting.  So I can live without it I suppose... simply because it's not lasting.  Joy is.  Or rather it can be.  There are times when I feel like even joy has deserted my poor heart.  And on those days even I must admit to needing someone on whose shoulder I can rest my head... but no...

And speaking of my heart... well, let's just say that it beats a little stronger these days.  It's been put through quite a series of strenuous workouts over the past several months.  They say working out makes you strong.  Well there you go.

And then, there's someone I want to tell you about...  but maybe another time.  It's a very long story that I actually have chronicled in a series of email that were sent and received during my last months of sea duty.  Let it just suffice to be said that I rarely if ever write about someone, and this one... this one I'll write about.  It's a story that I don't ever want to forget; even if it does end up breaking my heart down for good.  That will be a rough day, and I pray that I don't see it (any time soon at least). *Le sigh*

One more hour until midnight... and then it's Sunday.  The third Sunday in Lent.  This Lent means a lot to me ♥

Day 200, Cruise #2

So I successfully completed cruise '09 and then swiftly moved on to cruise '10; and we are on day 200, with less than a week to go before completing it. Thank heavens!

So often have I thought of updating my blog during this deployment; the fact of the matter is however, that the internet connection is so very slow on the ship it's nearly impossible. Or it was, since I was working 14 hour days on the flight deck throwing thumbs in the air and shooting jets off the pointy end. Many relfections and ponderings that I'd liked to have held onto are fled far from memory, and I'll just have to start from scratch. That's alright.

Sailor, where art thou?

I love Rudyard Kipling... His book, Captains Courageous is what first inspired me to want to become a sailor, at the age of eleven...

I still have that copy, with my sixth-grade handwritten signature on the first page.

This summer, when my squadron, and several other squadrons with whom we work, including CAG, were working in Fallon Nv, I met another sailor about my age who also loves Rudyard Kipling.

He emailed me a poem by said author, and loving it, I now present it to you.



[IF]

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!


--Rudyard Kipling

hmph

"you're so ate up with the military" you said to me. And maybe you didn't mean the way i took it. But i felt it was mean and quite a low blow.
I'm sorry that's the life you decided to leave to persue school and then a big huge question mark after that!
The military is what I have and really all I've got. So piss off.
I will be great and I will make it. Re-enlisting is something I did to provide myself with the opportunity to make some of my dreams a reality.

So there.
what you said today hurt my feelings; but it opened my eyes too. Whether or not you meant it is no matter.

what will happen will happen... you know: que sera sera!

On that note...

Goodnight

"I want to spend the rest of my life with my best friend" is what she wrote. Wow. This is in fact a beautiful reality that I have seen with my own eyes. And honestly, if your spouse doesn't become your best friend, then maybe that person shouldn't be your spouse... i dunno, but that's a thought that strikes a very deep chord in my heart.

This not at all what i intended to write today, but after reading her blog i had to comment in mine on that.

You're right you know. And much of what you said gave me alot to think about... i will write more on this subject later.

And what I was going to write earlier, i will do that later also.

In the mean time, I need to take my belongings to the ship. We're going out for com2x. joy.

Putting up my christmas tree

And despite the pile of unwrapped gifts on the floor, the crackling fire, and the christmas music... I feel so.... heartbroken.

Not home sick. Not anything I can actually relate to or put a finger on.

I just can't shake this sadness that's been casting shadows over my head for the past few months.

I just can't stop thinking about a line from my only favorite chic flick, You've Got Mail... When Frank asks Kathleen "What about you? Is there someone else?" She responds, "No. No, but... but there's the dream of someone else"

Well,

Off to the boat soon.

Dear Lord... I know I'll see you out there on the water...

In a way, we sailors, we too walk on water, for months at a time. Working, sleeping, eating, praying.Every day is like the one before, with little variation. Structured, I call it. Others call it monotonous. But for me, it's like a sweet release. A month out there becomes a single moment in time, where I can take a deep breath of salt-heavy air to clear my head, and sort out all the current craziness in my life. Then, forgetting it all in the rush and attention to detail that is involved in staying alive on a flight deck the hours fly by. Tumbling, whirling the hours become moments and before you know it, you're calling dibs on a shower, and you're soon climbing into a tiny rack. Tiny? well for some. But for my less than five foot two stature, the rack is not tiny. it's perfect. it's my safe haven where I can think about everything without distaction. Where I can reason, argue, see all sides of each story, and finally come to a conclusion. All by myself. A place where I can make decisions to change the things I can, and to accept the things I cannot change.

And a place where I can talk to God.

Like I said, dear Lord... I'll see you out there.

Love, from Dayna



(i posted this in another blog... not linked to this one, but the subject was worthy)

A poem I wrote in another blog

cloudy eyes and sailing thoughts


Again on watch, as my poetry goes
It seems like my only inspiration these days.
The olympiad sounds from the screen behind
But it's near three am so it's all replays.
If you'll wait a moment, I'll make a note
In the duty log, zero three hundred -- secure
Four and a half hours left, thank god!
Then out of this uniform and in bed for sure.
I'm distracted you know, so much going on
In my head: a constant tornado of sorts;
And I'm exhausted, can't wait for my thoughts
-Dissapointed ships- to secure in their ports.
So, driving home, soon - not soon enough
I'll breathe "Deo Gratias" at the thought of my bed
I so welcome sleep, which keeps me from thinking
And for a moment erases the things that were said.



(the url for this blog came from the title of this poem)