I am writing this with only one eye opened slightly, the other tightly shut. The glare from the laptop screen is pure evil against the splitting headache I woke up with. I am cold, that spot in my back that is linked to every part of my body is throbbing and I am afraid to put any pressure on it, it makes my heart race and my breathing labored, seeing that my heart is already picking up speed, I wouldn’t provoke it to acceleration.
I get scared, I must admit, of these things escalating, I do not fear so much the lots more pain I will go through, but the strain it will be (knowing it has always been) on my family and friends – emotionally…financially. I am learning to live one day at a time, rejoicing in the small things, even when there is no physical strength to leap doing so.
I think about death a lot. When you have seen it, felt it, tasted a bit of it, heard it snickering close by and could swear there have been too many times when you could grab it and try to hurl it away from around you, you would think about it. I am convinced all the time that there must be something…something I need to do…that I must do or leave here, which is why I am still around. I should have been dead and I will die if that something lets go of me, or when I am done, or…never mind. I know it, I feel it. I could go on about how I came to it. But maybe not here…on another platform.
And then I think about purpose a lot. A lot more lately, where life has got to the point where tough decisions must be made for purpose’s sake…decisions you cannot explain to people who are convinced they know you and know where you should be headed…or who just can’t see what can come from where you know purpose is leading you. There isn’t much you can explain to such bent on shaping you, but purpose is stronger because it is where you heart developed and it is where your passions direct the fuel they are. It is what inevitably shapes us. We resist only to feel the emptiness inside…the haunting of the road not taken. You may never voice your regrets, but they will be there.
In line with my passions, I wonder why it couldn’t have been simpler, easier on me. Conformist perhaps. Why should it lead me where a lot of mistakes have been made…where there are a lot of things I hate and then make me feel so badly the need to show that some good…a lot of good can be done with that failing thing when the failing thing is righted?
Why am I like this? Can I talk myself out of it? No.
I have grown to dislike people who think they know me so well and make meaning out of some of my actions, when they truly have no idea who Amma is and what she has dealt and is dealing with. When I am still taking in my changing self. When people think they can connect dots and shout ‘Eureka! We know why she is here now or there now’ or think they can fit you in some generalized idea or another. I am complex, as everyone else is. I may have been this very person I just described to someone else, and I apologize. I know better.
I think of how I came to God, after a lifetime spent not having encountered Him yet, I think of this year of my life, I think of years before this one. I think of actions, inactions, conversations, gestures. I think of today, now, how different I am from who I was literally just yesterday. I think of love. And again, how I only just recently came to understand what it really is. God bless my family, God bless my friends, and God bless you, D….
I want to write. Put myself out there. Hug everyone. I want to not be mine.
When I think of calm and peace, and joy, and love, mixed finely with pains and fears and uncertainty and many displeasures…
I’m thinking of me.