Saturday, December 25, 2004

A Christmas Hello! and banging heart by abide

perenoel.jpg

Christmas greetings, the above Christmas hello is especially for visitors here today. The image jpg is titled "Pere Noel" which I guess is French for Father Christmas. I found it at Netlex in France yesterday and thought it was kindly, warm, cuddly and cheery looking. It sure would be great if he was real. Imagine if there was a person so full of love and peace and goodwill who visited everyone on the planet each December 25. Well there is, but we cannot see him in the flesh. This may sound cheesy but he is there for us 24/7 whenever we wish. All we have to do is think hard, and he will appear in our hearts and minds and be there for us to talk and listen.

Here below is a copy of a heartfelt post that I found with great surprise in my links list this morning at Technorati. You've got to love Technorati when it works so efficiently, I know I do: it is like our very own blogphone system. The post is from a beautiful blog called abide that I shall write more about later on. Right now it is 7.56 Christmas Day morning. Ophelia is out on patrol. Fire and table lamps are on. I have just opened some lovely little gifts that friends had mailed me. One contained a bar of Green & Black's organic chocolate almond which I ate half of while opening the others. What a great energy saving gift as that's breakfast taken care of. If only we could live on chocolate, life would be so much easier. Here is the post (btw if the colours and fonts keep changing at this blog it is because I am teaching myself how to tweak my template - I have plans to develop this blog. See what I've done over at Sudan Watch (where the template was the same as this) ... all by myself without a clue about HTML and stuff. I realise it's not great, but I am a lot happier with it than the original blogger template.

banging heart

I read Me and Ophelia today with stunned respect -- for the courage of disclosure; for the easing of my own pain, through recognition; through affiliation -- unchosen, to be sure, but there nonetheless.  Her openness has eased my solitude, and I am grateful for that.

She says:

The imprisonment of long term chronic illness and loneliness is getting to me these past few days. I shall be glad when it is all over. Christmas I mean. I think. Although I wouldn't be at all disappointed if I went to sleep and never woke up again. I am always very grateful and appreciative of people's kindness and all the help I am given. But at times it does not seem worth it. Solitary confinement is no kind of life at all. My battle is unknown. There is no treatment or cure. They put animals down for lesser suffering. At least I have Ophelia to keep me company. If only she could speak ...

Following her example, I am posting a late-night ramble written sometime in the past few days (I actually don't remember when.)  But I am putting it below the cut:

awake in the drugged night
asking myself how i have managed
to be so alone. not alone in my bed,
which folds me in fine; but alone
in my life, in the dailiness of it, in
the chores and banalities of living
too long.  alone in my soul.  how
has it happened that a christmas comes
with no invitations, none meant in
friendship or sorrow or guilt, none.

. . . i have done this to myself
. . . what have i done?

it is me, with all this.  it is judgment,
i think.  that, and misunderstandings
that i've no energy to rectify . . .

so now, needing, more than ever in my
life, needing friendship and tangible
support, i do not have it.  i can not, do
not care for myself.  i am unable to tell
what is can't and what is won't.  i have
lost my bearings.  do i mean to be cruel?

am i required to accept cruelty?  am i
unable to distinguish between cruelty
and simple human failings? i do not cry, for
fear of being overheard.

i think i need a room, just
one room, a few necessities, the dogs -- less to
take care of.  even less to care for.

a virtual life does not ease the shoulders.  it
does not mend the heart, banging, banging
against its own shore.

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