17. Hope & Despair
What a week! It has been one of those weeks in which I did not want to play anymore. Vacillations between hope and despair became my norm, and one of solitary disconsulation.
The words you read on this page are my unfiltered, and mostly, incoherent streams of consciousness of my week gone.
Perchance, my mood was inflicted by the seven year anniversary of my father's passing, and who became liberated from his debiliitating illness on, poignantly, America's 4th of July "Independence Day".
Or perhaps this despondency was attributable to my wife being hospitalised last weekend, which pained me, and by my uselessness for not being able to be there for her. To add to this savoury mix, I was experiencing nausea, and on the precipice of drowning in my own saliva.
On reflecting on this past week, I sense I was leaning heavily on the side of despair. Overtime, I have slowly dug myself out of the trenches of such resignation...
... I never know whether the words on "Introspection" that unexpectedly flow from my thoughts are excrements of the mind, or inspired from beyond my mind!
I like to believe that when my words flow effortlessly, it is inspiration cultivated through the soul; and where the words flow with agitated perspiration, my thoughts are derived from the 'meadow muffins' of the mind.
Today, I am unclear as to whether today's utterances are fertilised by these 'meadow muffins', or from the pure soils of the soul!...
Based on the week I've had, miracles, I cynically digest, are fantasy fairytales of another time, another place, and not of my world - at least not this past week, anyway! The wonderment of the supernatural, the hopeful beauties of prayers fulfilled, forlornly, do not reside in my world!
The past seven years, and particularly the last four, have been, without reservation, the most treacherous mentally. The darkness and cold of my 'Long Night' appears to be nearing, with the 'White-Walkers' silently encroaching. I now sense there will be no white knight, no Lord in shining armour, no 'Jon Snow', nor fire saving dragons, to save me from this torment - no fairytale ending!
I have prayed to the 'old' and 'new' Gods for a physical healing, but assessment of my moment by moment physical disintegration suggests my answered prayers seem more distant today than yesterday, the day before last, and the day before then. Do my Gods have no mercy, no compassion, and revels in the suffering of his children?...
...Okay, enough of the self-pity - it won't help me, or you. But these years have, as I have previously laundried in my little corner of cyber-world, also transformational on many other levels. This I AM thankful for.
Yes, I am grateful that I have been given the opportunity and blessing of this life. But I only wish I could have more of it, many many more years of it, now that I think I get life!
My heart aches for pondering the likelihood of not watching my daughter continue to blossom, to maybe walk Siena down the wedding aisle, being a grandparent to her children, and affectionately calling her a 'bitch' just a few more times when she behaves as a typical teenager does. :)
Siena is my fleeting prized snowflake in the endless cycle of life, and the centre of the universe, well at least, my centre. She is a gifted treasure, my treasured gift, my hope in the deepest depths of despair.
There is a quote by Jo Nesbo which can help me to put things into perspective, and swing the heart's pendulum from despair to hope - “Losing your life is not the worst thing that can happen. The worst thing is to lose your reason for living.”
And I know I have many, many reasons for living. On that note, I will again strive to face the new days ahead with greater hope, and less despair... hopefully!
