As I sit here and the tears just seem to flow from my eyes and heart. I am questioning for what is all this for? Suddenly I am realizing that it is for myself. This seems a bit selfish, but it is for myself. Lately I have walked paths that I have never encountered, never walked--I feel lost to the world.
Yesterday as I was lying on the grass in that enchanted place, at the bottom of the garden, by the little babbling brook. The silence was the most beautiful music, only the birds and the actual sound of stillness. That place is magic, it captures the sound of silence. This evening I thought--if I have to die, that is where I would like to end my life--on the banks of that little brook. There amongst those huge pines and that old apple tree. A magical place amid all the noise of the 21st century.
A serene place to discover ones self, to listen one`s soul and hear the actual voice of God, clearly. There--in the bustle of this enormous city life, is this tranquil spot that is a door to inner light and peace .
I am doing a lot of soul searching lately--yet I have no idea as to what that is I seek. I seem to be wanting or needing something that which I cannot describe. The only time for a while now was yesterday on the bank of that stream, lying and gazing at the sky, that I seem to have a glimpse of an answer--otherwise my soul is so restless that at times I feel it will simply escape and leave me. No thought or idea seems to satisfy my heart. For moments here and there, thought you do, imagining being with you do, --being spiritually with you do. Though those times seems to be fleeting as well, though I love you so very much. But, maybe it is because you are not here, though you are ever present in my heart. Strange? I wonder so often as what you really think.
Maybe all the chaos around me that is doing this, my mother, my aunt and even the little kitty--that keep me bound to the thought of impermanence. Prayer is not much comfort--as I have to confess I am not that much into it as I should. I pray, say the rosary--but it is not hours on end--they more like mantras almost an unconscious method of recitation . But--the strange, the most odd thing is that my mind is forever constantly focused on God, conscious of God, within God. And I mean absolutely constantly, though He dosn`t give me much solace.--I am only distracted very briefly when I am working, or doing something. As I said--perhaps I am mad for that cannot be normal at all to be like this.
Maybe I am expecting death in some form--maybe it is a form of fear or wanting to be free of all , of life. Or maybe I just need a large does of Paxil and a bottle of rum. There is this constant voice in my head saying all sorts of things, different images--of death mostly. Not of myself but loved ones--I truly hope that I die before anyone else or I could not live it through, I would be totally devastated--losing anyone.
No wonder many who actually thought about existence were torn--and questioned all, including God. Nothing makes sense about living at all--if you think it does than you are deluding yourself. The only time it makes sense when you stop thinking and become like most of the 7 billion--who are simply running after the"stuff""--thinking it will make them happy and fulfilled. What a lot of crap.
Maybe I am just feeling sorry for myself, for my life and the way it has turned out. Though-to be honest, whose life has actually turned out the way they had expected? No one. They may lie and tell you that it is all happiness, joy and bliss--but hardly. All a huge misconception of self delusion. Who ever that maybe from kings to paupers--all the same. Just searching for that elusive dream--that something that does not exist only perhaps in dreams or in fairy tales. That is why you loved "Avatar"so much--"Pandora" --exists but in the sense as it is in mythology--as Pandora opens the box filled with all of the "troubles" escaping, hardly "Nirvana". --I doubt greatly whether "hope" was actually present in the dark corners of that box. That is a dream of man, not wanting to accept the finality and the nothingness of all. Dreaming of the "eternal hope".
One thing I can say for sure--it is not what I expected, but then when we are young we are weaver of dreams, when we get older--or old we realize that nothing is as we had imagined, thought or were told otherwise. Nothing is real all is simply illusion --transient and impermanent. Where does that leave us? Completely, utterly lost~!
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