//the new //the old
//and
me //connections //if
you're leaving // the honours
//the usual
It's taken two days of submersion in religion, along with a sweet little red-head, to help me shrug off my stubborn "realism" and distrust of the Divine. I itched under the suffocating weight of human inadequacy; I hungered for shimmering freedom. Freedom from the fear of imperfection, mostly. But for too long -- longer than usual -- pride and delusions stifled cries for help. I denied the encumbering weight even to myself. It confined me and kept out hope, comfort, joy, truth, and God. The retreat came at the ideal point; I could hardly be more sick of myself.
And even at the retreat, afer a few talks and prayers, I still felt the oppression of my thoughts. During the 3 hours that were provided to have some fun with my classmates, enjoy the time we had together, I stole away with my book. I couldn't wait to drown myself in the story -- sink down and away from the world.
In the sugarmill I sat, compact, on the deep sill of north-facing window. I don't know how long I was there, entranced in fiction, before she pulled me out of that warmth. Soft smile, kind eyes. A different kind of warmth. Comfortable, like early morning sunlight, rather than the stifling dark red haze of my mind. I told her I was OK. I promised I was fine. Well, she smiled, if you need company... She left. The warmth lingered.
I didn't know what I needed. But I felt icky sitting in the window at the edge of my world. That kind little red-head made an effort to bring me back. It was a small effort, but sincere. My guilt tore a hole in my wet blanket of gloom. I sighed, closed the book, and walked down from the sugar mill. I'd make an effort, too.
I spoke to her most over the weekend. It turned out that company, her kind company, was what I needed. Her honesty surprised me, and made me ashamed that I couldn't be so open with anyone. What surprised me more was how she radiated hope and sat on strength. This kind little red-head. She lifted the encumbering weight, and helped me to be happy.
I think I'll try living again.