Thursday, December 07, 2017

Peace, out!

Today I read Father Parker's sermon (he had written his address behind it so he gave me the paper) about actively looking for Christ in everyone and trying to reach out to them.

It was a good sermon. He gave us a few funny anecdotes where he tried to help someone and got told to go to (he didn't mention where except that it was pretty hot) and he added: "I won't tell you what he said about my parentage."

We all laughed.

But he said, reaching out, you have to be prepared to be rejected. You have to be OK with rejection.

And then, I came in to work and got immediately irritated. With the one who irritates everybody by posturing, posing and ranting.

And I arrested my knee jerk reaction (OK, I arrested it after I put on headphones to block out her voice) and thought about it.

Maybe some people behave the way they do as a cry for help. What if she's lonely? What if she's lost?

It doesn't seem likely.

But thinking like this, I felt more kindly disposed towards her.

And from my corner at least, the deathly vibes of irritation ceased to project towards her.

Which is a victory of sorts, no?

Deep breath.


Monday, December 04, 2017

For whom the bell tolls

Ebony has been playing on my mind more than usual. I wonder who says you ever heal from the deaths of those you love. You don't. Your heart is riven and it stays riven. It heals but it heals riven, misshapen, always identified by the loss.

I don't know why. I have no idea. I am diminished and diminished and every death diminishes me further. The people who are actual around me become phantom, shadows, not quite real, not quite there and I want to be with myself and my cats, my babies, hugging them to me, being with them, and with my thoughts, and with my pain.

It's like hugging shards of broken glass, these painful feelings that don't quite go away, so you are ever-conscious of the sting, and your eyes fill up at faint suggestions of the things you once had, which you have now lost for good.

This is the end of my holiday and I'm not sad about that because I can't wait to see my cats again. But my flight was unaccountably delayed for so long that I had to spend the night in Singapore, and instead of going to the hotel they had assigned me to, I remained at the airport, the in-between place and watched various versions of A Christmas Carol and wept at each of them.

I am the Scrooge of the hard heart. Isn't it easy to let your heart ice over? Isn't it easy to fall into hate? Into evil feelings, a lack of love?

Isn't it easy to lie down and stop breathing....but no, the cats, the Christmas tree that is now up, the words I have yet to write, the people depending on me.

I wish I didn't feel so alone.

I have no idea why I feel this way.

I wish I could stop crying.