28th June
2001
Missing Dog
10:30pm. A tumult of emotions and thoughts are flooding through my mind at this moment; I have too much to say, and not a clue how to express them.
A prayer will suffice.
Lord God, I thank thee for thine gifts.
For the
gift of your creation.
Watching the sunset out of the back windshield of a black cab, en-route
from Heathrow to my home, I realised again that this world that you have given
us is immense in its sheer size and complexity, and I realised again also that
though we are beaten down slowly over time by the darkness, the sheer immensity
of thine creation ensures that there will also be Good out there, somewhere.
For the
good thou hast seen fit to give unto me.
I am remembering who I used
to be. Strangely, the voyage of discovering someone else has also been about
self-discovery, or rather re-discovery. I have been touched by thine Grace,
I suspect... cynicism has melted away. Acceptance of things once perceived as
frightening and foreign... for these things I am grateful.
I thought,
once upon a time that I had forgotten how to cry. I remember moments later in
life when I did feel despair, such despair i cannot begin to express it in mere
words. You feel the moment, you feel sheer distress welling up within you, then
the well-oiled defence mechanisms come into play, and the walls come smoothly
and sequentially up. The barriers come crashing down, and the floodgates close.
You find yourself laughing at yourself, detaching yourself from it all. Histrionics?
Me? How... funny! And the moment is lost.
This evening, in the back of a cab, looking back at airplane trails across the
sky I did remember how to feel. You feel the same distress rising in your throat,
you feel the same almost-fear striking your being, and yet, in this instance
it was a good distress, and a good fear. There were no defence mechanisms to
be triggered, because there was no attack to ward off. And so you watch the
golden hued sunset, and catch yourself almost-laughing wistfully, and feeling
rather alone at losing what feels like a half of you (a better half, I hasten
to add) and suddenly catch yourself thinking... this moisture about my eyes...
mine? Tears of joy? Me? Or of wistfulness? What? What exactly... have I forgotten,
somewhere along the line how to read myself? I know, at heart though, how I'm
feeling... and I'm incredibly grateful for it all. The moment (panic attacks?
or separation anxiety...) actually repeats, several times more on the trip back,
despite the habit-formed escapist routines coming back into play... things like
thinking in your head what you'll write on this page when you finally come home;
all very detached, all very impersonal... and suddenly you're broadsided by
the reality of it all and the moment returns...
And somewhere in it all, I feel... alive, re-awakened, and thankful.
For guidance,
into the light.
Lord, I confess that I have
faltered often in the quest to find thee in my individuality; suddenly I
am granted a boon; I have been touched by your Grace, and encountered simple
Goodness, where before I tried to create, in my head, Goodness where there was
precious little. In so many ways I have been granted a guide - never would I
have imagined all these gifts arriving in quite the way they did; but as I walk
new paths that I was once afraid to tread, I think it becomes easier to discern
the roads to be taken; I have tried to live by thine ways through my life; now
I hope to walk in thine footsteps.
I thank
thee for all these gifts thou hast bequethed upon me, and pray that you will
shower these same blessings on those whom I love and care about... I will say
the rest of my prayers later, in the privacy of my own thoughts, away from this
page.
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and so I'm sitting here feeling rather... mixed-up. Sadness in happiness, gratitude in "loss" (although the loss is, God willing, transient)... and I have a long case to write up for tomorrow morning, and the MBBS finals to pass... Reading my last entry, I know that little ditty was inspired, even if I do say so myself. I write the dangdest things sometimes... but yes, turn the page; raise your metaphorical sword and hold your head high... battle awaits.
I dedicate this page to you, Convicted Clyne, hedger extraordinaire. Thank you for the best days of my life. And so much, much more. I have much to learn from you; hopefully, in return I will have something to offer... I pray that you do all the things you've always wanted to do, this summer...
And, if you're reading this, Clyne's best friend, N.MI, whom I've never met... I return her into your care and protection; please keep her warm, happy and laughing where I cannot. And help her to remember who she is, as well.
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and if I could do it all over again, I would do it no other way... (of course I knew it was "no other way" :) but "no differently" is a me-ism that sounds nicer to me...) and I wouldn't rather it be anyone else, either.