As many a grizzled old blues man has said, sometimes if it wasn’t for bad luck, you wouldn’t have any luck at all. Speaking as someone who has just come through one of the toughest periods of life yet (and THAT’S saying something!) it’s difficult not to take stuff personally when it keeps on happening and keeps on getting worse. You begin to wonder; what did I do? how can I change this? what the hell is going to happen next?
I am fortunate in that I have a wonderful daughter and a delightful grandson, not to mention two very good friends without whom I would not be here and certainly not writing this. But, there is only so much that others can do. They have lives and demands of their own, they cannot support 24/7. So what do you do when the hands on the clock go backwards and shadows dog your every step? How do you chase away the goblins that taunt and tease and pinch your mind black and blue?
The idiot box in the corner is usually of little help; every dvd left in the collection is wrong! You want to be distracted, you crave the oblivion of someone else’s fantasy but nothing is there. You mope and you cry and you think all manner of outlandish thoughts and then, finally, as if by witchcraft exactly the right book falls into your path. A book you might never have considered reading in the ordinary course of things; a book of subject matter so far removed from your own life and problems that the goblins are banished to squealing frantic obscurity, and the shadows are blown away by the dazzling words of another mind.
In the past ten days I have read books ranging in subject matter from Revelation and the possible end of the world (it was intended as a cheer-up book believe me) via a much recommended classic (I hated it but at least I can now say so and back up my opinion with the words, yes, I have read it) to a chic-lit which I would have dismissed out of hand had I not been so desperate to still the cogs of my over active mind. I have devoured and enjoyed all of them in their very different ways, but sadly could not tell you with any certainty any particular phrase or observation which connected with me on anything other than a superficial level. What they have done though,is set me writing here, on my blog, again for the first time in a very long time. It may not be deep, it may not be the stuff of legendary literature but it is a beginning and I’m grateful for it.
Shakespeare said, “the pen is mightier than the sword.” Hear, hear William, hear, hear.