4 in the morning

4 in the morning as I write this-

Though I am not a writer, I do love to write. I have no gift nor talent. I tried my luck at writing a novel, well it took me over twenty five years to finish, but finish I did. I never finish anything, an awful fault. However, I did finish it completely,  this I am proud of. Good for my soul, and the story had to be put to words, as it is a personal one.  Fiction of course, but historical in a sense of the social injustices and political events in South Africa, while I was growing  up.

Never will it be published, I certainly don`t have that know how, neither do I have commercial savvy, but I am told it isn`t bad at all. Few people have read it, including a writer or two. However all the writing talent, especially beautiful vocabulary resides in my other half, in fact the entire Oxford dictionary, as well as the entire works of literature of the English language and then some. It absolutely boggles my mind how he did that! But I guess this is a gift from God. He must have been a very, very good angel at some point to accrue such blessing. But gifts were meant to be used, expressed and floated out into the world like a golden cord, whether being paid for it or not. A writer, as he is, has the need to write like breathing or die, and there has to be the feeling of satisfaction that it is at least appreciated. Well it is.

I once asked him to read my manuscript, he read a few chapters, and then stopped cold turkey. Wrote a flowery critique of it, but then never finished. I asked why? He said he was jealous of the protagonist, yet it really had nothing to do with my life at all really. Very slightly indeed. Hearts are like that, we are always insecure in love, when loved and most often that is the reason why we lose the very heart we so desire. We kill it with almost an obsessive suffocation, that which we call love. Then we cry, scream, shout, have regrets, even stamp our feet and life is never the same again. The bottom line is that love hurts. If you want to experience the pain of hell, then fall in love, and then leave the communion. `The more deeply we get entwined in each other`s love, the more beautifully it hurts`--said my twin-soul. How divinely romantic for those reading the lines. But so was Romeo and Juliet, Anthony and Cleopatra, look where it got them...at least they got spared from the hell part. That is reserved strictly for the living!

This scenario happens so frequently, especially where great loves are concerned. Oh, there are so many, but this instant Leonard Cohen comes to mind, and his Marianne. But, I also have to add, that for sensitive and spiritual people, especially who have a venue such as writing through which the feelings can flow, are very lucky for them expressing  themselves in this context becomes a very productive process. Oliver always says,`that it is only out of the dark, out of pain, out of the depth of despair and out of heart wrenching sadness can  anything of value can arise. Like an exquisite pearl`. A bit morbid but rather  precise observation. So it is with creative people. Most writers and poets walked in those shoes. I am sure Leonard will agree. Oh, yeah--still all his works are inspired by Marianne some half century later. Well, that is great love. You lose it either way. You kill it figuratively or it dies, the latter literally. That is why great artists in the different fields all have their muses. I was called such once. Am I still ? Mmm, I wonder?

Oliver describes it superbly:` unrequited love is always the greatest`. That is probably the turn on for the soul. We adore pain, the drama and wade in pain most happily, with joy and merriment  as our heart breaks into a million pieces. Then we feel, a satisfaction of sorts that we did it all for love. Seems that to love or be loved always has to be through some suffering at the end, while in it one seldom appreciates it, but once lost. Oh, the agony,  as the ecstasy becomes a sweet memory. Never forgotten, getting stronger as the years pass. Strange, no? Love is very greedy. Is it not?

The truth is that we are masochists by birth. Or have a sort of inheritance from our Creator, a deep cell memory that we need to suffer to deserve some happiness.There is something that lies deep in our unconscious mind that we feel guilty about. Maybe something we did, or thought we did. Perhaps it is karma--now that is sort of a cop out for it. Sounds good to me, and `most logical`, as Mr. Spock would say. Or the punishment for original sin? It all seems to be ingrained in our very DNA.Well for most anyway.

Some souls just live day to day and are completely satisfied. Never a thought about the spiritual, strictly grounded material existence, rooted firmly into good old terra firma. But,  if you have a simple grain of passion a spark of soul expression, then prepare to suffer horrendously. This emotion demands all from you, every thing-- the very breath of body, soul and spirit. Yes, all in the name of love.

Thus, no wonder that many chose the spiritual life, the religious life like the Carmelites or Benedictines. It is safe. God forgives everything, no matter what the crime, loves unconditionally our virtues and vices. He  is always there, ever present never leaves unless you leave Him, and you are forever wed. Ever the rock and harbor for our soul. No divorce, nor separation only a deeper union with time, no heartache only pure love. Even a longing for death becomes a deep desire. Now isn`t that just perfect, I ask you? Actually when I was young, at the convent I admired the spiritual lives of the nuns and the thought of becoming one crossed my mind more than once. maybe I`d be in a happier, more fulfilled place now.

 Anyway, I was never good with words, a thesaurus gathers dust on my book shelves, as does the dictionary. Now it is easier as there is spell check, but even that often gets beyond me as  my spontaneous passion and nature get in the way. Letters I write get read once I have sent it, and only then. Bad idea! Why, because I am a silly Aries, and sadly a lesson never learned. Well, we can`t be all gifted that way. However, the feeling is there to put thoughts down, used to be on paper. The often inexpressible have taken residence up in my heart, which I would  so love to bring forth the way my other self does. Well, being a half of one, only one can have something which the other is lacking...Hmm?

When I was fifteen, I got a four year diary and I wrote in it faithfully for four years. It witnessed all my hopes, dreams and sadness. It was great. Then, like a silly teenager, when I got engaged at age nineteen, I ceremoniously burnt  it under the mulberry tree in our garden in Johannesburg one glorious summer morning. Why did I act like an ass? Only God knows, for it contained no great secrets, only my thoughts and feelings of a young, innocent girl. I was even a virgin when I had married, so I had no secret past lives. I am sorry now.

Thus our lives keep marching along, the sand in the hour-glass becoming less and less. I can`t believe it is 2012. ..now the question begs some response, theoretical only, as all else is none-existent. Shall we ascend from 3D, to 4D or even 5D, ah, --but maybe descend to 2D...? ;) I think this is also just simply in the mind of dreamers who dream of a better place than this little spinning blue orb in space that we call earth. We wish and dream being beyond, out there somewhere in the cosmos.  Hoping and wishing that we come from Rigel, or some other star system or galaxy--from anywhere, any place will do,  as long as it is not earth. Our soul is ever restless, ever searching, ever wanting to fly, ever wanting to return home.

Yet, looking at it  with soul-eyes, we all have it right in our hearts, we just fail to recognize it. His name is God, and we are a spark of that Divine Source. We thought we had lost it, that is ego whispering, free will screaming-- Wayne Dyer has a great term for our ego, edge God out, that is what we are doing. When God is allowed to edge back in, that is what love is. It is the expression for an other soul, you and I are the very  reflection of God himself. Thus I was once told by Our Lady when I posed the question regarding life, her answer was one word: Expansion.  Through different experiences of love, we expand further, eventually reaching our Source whence we came.

Oliver darling, you had it write when you wrote the epitaph for Fritz--our kitty! That is what all this life and experiences are about, to experience our divinity and eventually return into the vastness of God.

 
Post Script: Epitaph for Fritz:

 Oh my dearest sweetest cicukam. My heart goes out to you and your family. Come seek shelter there, in the pine-scented vastness of my solitudes. Look to the stars and remember where little Fritz has gone to become a sunbeam of hope in our heavens to shine his light in the outer darkness. Be it the cat  or the goldfish that the cat ate...a death in the family will be ever just that. But he was loved, and that was his gift to you. May you ever honor it.