“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think anyone would be interested in reading my poems. Most of it is about my own personal misery.”
She turned to me with great big eyes of disbelief. “Sophie, very many of the great poets wrote only about their personal misery. Have you learned anything in my class?”
——————-
For two days it’s been on my mind. Some recent revelations indicate that those relationships were not as I believed.
In fact, it’s been on my mind: Was that love ever real at all?
And if it wasn’t… well, there once was a time I would have been devastated.
I tried an experiment today, listening to Jaeson’s “Namesake” in the car when I dug it out of the glove compartment surprised to find it there. I wondered if I’d feel the familiar sting but I didn’t. I wonder if the worst is over – oh it must be.
I hope the some of us who became mentally ill can rest in that.
And the some of us who felt lost.
And the some of us who wanted to hold something against someone.
And the some of us who ran away.
And the some of us who felt ruined.
And the some of us who tasted blood.
And the some of us who left the country.
And the some of us who felt responsible for recreating it. Perhaps obsessed.
And the some of us who sampled various house churches in the aftermath and found none suitable to call home.
And the some of us who wrestled about the thought of love and if it’s possible for real love to fail. If it failed, then was it ever real to begin with? Is the question suspended in the air, like a pendulum defying gravity. It’s been very awkward these past years fighting delusion and sorting through what’s real and what is counterfeit, though it’s all memory it still penetrates the present and all my future seems to depend on its being aptly sorted. Only just seems though…. And still sometimes I’m waiting for the pendulum to remember it’s act. Down you fall! I’m just waiting. It will feel like a crashing wave, and yes I will feel submerged but just for a minute. Then I’ll rest! And feel blessed.
At least that matter is different from the one I do have sorted, the primary one. That matter is a bit off center. Whereas You, when I doubted if your love was real…. I suppose Lord some things I think are very urgent and important, You think is not as urgent or as important as I presume. While my hands are on one project, you’re calling my attention to another.
I must have not seen the situation clearly. Back then I mean. I must have been seeing it a bit wrong. At least a bit wrong!
And it’s good that we’re not berating ourselves for asking questions. You get good answers if you ask good questions. But only ask those questions in the secret place in that corner of your mind’s life where you know you have permission to talk about anything and it won’t affect or prevent you from health and happiness in the reality that is right now. Right now – the current blessing. I’ve been receiving it only since stretching out my arms eagerly. How do I love You with my heart and affections so fragmented? I like that you don’t call me crazy, that you call me Sophie Full of Faith.
