(offtopic) chaffinch starts his song at 06:43 in the morning.
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i chose Christ, not because i feared to die,
but rather because He did not;
i walk with Him not because of religion,
but of companionship,
call it love. i do not know who
loved whom first – i in my finite predisposition, or He
in His infinity.
i liked it. the shadow, and the brightness of the reflections. happy Day of looking for reflections in puddles, people.
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and.. there is a lesson the reflections in puddles teach: the water may be muddy, and totally useless for anything practical. but it reflects the brilliance of the sun, and the nature, and the sky. and so do we, in our muddiest, unclearest moments, we still are able to reflect the deity who walketh among us unseen, invisible, ever-ready to approach.
so – fear not those muddy, grey days, days of shadow and imminent dark – this is the surface the light reflects off easiest, and those looking at you will see the light. and rejoice.
and i want to stop it, take a screwdriver, unscrew the frame, take the insides out. sort them into neat piles, throw out loads of stuff, re-arrange the rest, so that all things have space. then unravel the mess of connectors and neatly connect everything appropriately, without knots and dubious liaisons.
and check the battery, and the propulsion, too. it has been going too fast for its initial specs, much too fast, held too many things onboard and been on strange and unusual roads. the battery and the engine must have had some wear and tear.
but all i have at the moment, is a hammer. i can only throw it, in the hope that it will stop the world without destroying something essential. and then, find the screwdriver and act as above, plus some necessary repairs. with luck, i might hit something i wanted to throw out anyway.
yeah, sometimes life gets too fast. the usual september thing, i deem.
p.s. when tagging the post, i proudly noticed i already had the tag for ‘allegory’.
last night i thought: yes, this is my favourite season: it is cool – not chilly, just cool; thru the open window by my bed i see the black silk of the star-strewn sky, framed by treetops.
it all is still. and i am still, like this time of the summer gone and autumn arriving.
and i listen to the voice of god. and i talk to him, like an old friend, wise with years. and i listen, listen, listen.
i am grateful for this summer. it was not easy, but it was beautiful. i still hurt, and i still see the dead, my own and not my own, if i am not careful – or i see them at full moons anyway, and it hurts like anything. but since my journey to czestochowa, something essential has changed, and i have been made whole deep inside, where it matters. i have not figured out all the changes, and there sure are more than i can currently account for…but that, though perplexing and puzzling, does not worry me. i trust god, and i trust those he sends along on my journey.
it is a strange feeling, to have been made whole. i wish i had words for it, but i do not. because i am allergic to big words, and the small words do not apply, so silence is my medium. silence and love.
and the black starry silk of sky is maybe a foreknowledge of heaven. in the sense of peace and communication. and the presence of god.
and then i suddenly realised that i have seen the place in my dreams.
the czestochowa basilica. sometime i will try to write it up – for now let it be enough to remember i have seen it in my dreams.
and what i think now is – i want to rest at the feet of Jesus. like a cat, or a dog. feeling the companionship. knowing the protection. knowing the unconditional love the true master has for his animal.
my language is awkward, my words amiss. i do hope they will be sorted out, and understood. sometime, somewhere.
for the two past days, i was translating a conference with/for people with ALS/MND.
i admire the ones choose to fight on. i do. they have achieved much. they have moved mountains. they have been real vikings.
even if i would never choose to fight on myself in a similar situation. if i had a choice.
but tonight i am too tired to think, even to document what i feel, except the most basic of feelings.
i wish the world were a more painless place. or a place of less meaningless suffering. but it isn’t. and to the end of the known world we will have to live in it – unjust and painful and corrupt.
praise be to christ who is victorious. he alone makes the hope possible.
my room looks bare without timothy the cat. nobody attacks me unexpectedly. nobody is discovered sleeping on the printer. nobody catches moths.
and it is so quiet now. creepy.
timothy the cat has found a great place at my parents’ and is enjoying his situation and station immensely. he even is kind to my mother and purrs to her and is accessible but not obnoxious. my brother adores him and is sure to spoil the kitten in no time. even my father seems younger when timothy is playing with him tentatively.
and, folks, just because my life is collapsing now, and because there is all this..this…no idea what to call it – experience, stuff going on, pain, losses and such – there is no need to label it ‘sad’. hard – yes. difficult, painful, complicated, exhausting – yes to all of that. but not sad. this is a period of change, and my beloved christ walks next to me. sometimes he has your face, whoever you are. thanks.
just like the famous dickensian character of mark tapley (“martin chuzzlewit”) i am learning “to be jolly” in the circumstances that are, well, the way they are. as all the learning processes, this has its breakthroughs and lapses. bear with me, just a little longer, bear with me. it is not easy or simple to let go of nearly forty years of a life.
i was listening to the forest today, in the morning haar – and the forest felt heavy with the breath of spring. the wind is turning. the ices and the snows are breaking. the redstart is singing.
this me is documenting a demise of a whole world. only the joy of documenting the birth of another would be greater.
