ill, and a soreness of spirit
What a weekend.
Friday started off ominously, with a little scratching of the throat and an overly warm feeling in my skin. They say this is how it starts. By three o'clock, I was no longer confident in my ability to contain myself. I was relieved of my deskly duties and allowed to go home.
The time between then and now has passed enjoyably enough...as much so as can be, considering my not really feeling up to much of anything at all. Even the writing of this post has proven a difficult undertaking. In my mind is so much energy! so many ideas! such things to do! Alas, my body is not so willing. Frustratingly weak.
City of Angels. This film, last night, caused me to cry in a way I haven't in a long time. The fallen angel said, upon being asked if he still would have become human if he'd known his lover would die that day: "I would rather have had one breath of her hair, one kiss of her mouth, one touch of her hand...than an eternity without it. One." What kind of love is this? What kind of intensity and commitment to something outside of ones self? Inspired passion. I saw a piece of my nineteen-year-old self. Surely this couldn't have been four years ago.
I've got to stop trying to explain the world to myself, and vice versa. These rules I've created for protection only take me further from from where I actually want to be -- with my truest and oldest Friend. Tragically, I wish there were a book I could read in a span of three hundred and fifty pages that contained the solution(s) to my unplaceable doubts and fears. Yes, this means that I seek the easy way through this mess of emotion and a million people's thoughts, opinions, revelations. But this method is predicamental, as the easy way is ever-elusive, and I can't wait any longer for it.
I'm backed into a corner with nowhere else to look but straight ahead and up. Would someone for the love of God take my sword and shield away? Or at least coax gently, quietly enough that I'll give them up of my own volition? I feel too small to advance without them. Convince me, sway me. I'm fairly ready to believe anything (given that the coaxing is adequately grounded in sound theology [what is that, again?], because Lord knows I'm quite done with ancient myths and foolish superstition).
Friday started off ominously, with a little scratching of the throat and an overly warm feeling in my skin. They say this is how it starts. By three o'clock, I was no longer confident in my ability to contain myself. I was relieved of my deskly duties and allowed to go home.
The time between then and now has passed enjoyably enough...as much so as can be, considering my not really feeling up to much of anything at all. Even the writing of this post has proven a difficult undertaking. In my mind is so much energy! so many ideas! such things to do! Alas, my body is not so willing. Frustratingly weak.
City of Angels. This film, last night, caused me to cry in a way I haven't in a long time. The fallen angel said, upon being asked if he still would have become human if he'd known his lover would die that day: "I would rather have had one breath of her hair, one kiss of her mouth, one touch of her hand...than an eternity without it. One." What kind of love is this? What kind of intensity and commitment to something outside of ones self? Inspired passion. I saw a piece of my nineteen-year-old self. Surely this couldn't have been four years ago.
I've got to stop trying to explain the world to myself, and vice versa. These rules I've created for protection only take me further from from where I actually want to be -- with my truest and oldest Friend. Tragically, I wish there were a book I could read in a span of three hundred and fifty pages that contained the solution(s) to my unplaceable doubts and fears. Yes, this means that I seek the easy way through this mess of emotion and a million people's thoughts, opinions, revelations. But this method is predicamental, as the easy way is ever-elusive, and I can't wait any longer for it.
I'm backed into a corner with nowhere else to look but straight ahead and up. Would someone for the love of God take my sword and shield away? Or at least coax gently, quietly enough that I'll give them up of my own volition? I feel too small to advance without them. Convince me, sway me. I'm fairly ready to believe anything (given that the coaxing is adequately grounded in sound theology [what is that, again?], because Lord knows I'm quite done with ancient myths and foolish superstition).
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