There is a fine line between baring ones soul and washing dirty linen in public. For me, I suppose, it’s a matter of why it’s done. If all one seeks is public sympathy or validation then dirty linen it is. But what if there is a pain so awful, so deep inside that you cannot bear to tell those closest to you because of the anguish it might cause? What if the only way to expunge the agony is to throw it out into the ether and hope there is enough goodness left in the world to cleanse the energy?
Something happened to me yesterday which I still do not fully understand and therefore have no way of explaining. Suffice it to say that, following a night of consideration, my mood matches the current weather here (not good). I used to think that writers who used the phrase ‘they felt their heart physically break’ were unbearably trite. What a dreadful phrase; no-one can feel a heart break. I was wrong. Something inside me died yesterday, something which, I think, may heal with time but will always leave a scar. I think my heart broke. I know my faith did.
The title of this blog is from a book oft recommended which I mentioned yesterday. For me the story and style did not work but the concept did. Of all the sad creatures in the universe (as far as we know) we appear to be the only ones foolish enough to try taming time. We believe that all things have a linear measurement; a beginning, middle and end. But the author of the book I’m referring to put forward the theory of all things occurring at all times. All things make up an eternal circle of existence and anything that happens is simply another blip on the ever turning cycle of time: So it goes, says the author. it’s a good philosophy, one I’m trying very hard to embrace.
Let me say at once that the occurrence is not health connected or life threatening for me but very well might be for someone very close to me. The person is also their own worst enemy and I have fought to hold back the tide of their self-destruction for a long time but I think, at last, I have given up. The author of the above book proposed also that ‘things just happen’. Simply because most of us buy into a certain philosophy or line of thought does not mean everyone should be forced to do so. We take refuge in the shelter of convention but it does not take much to bring the walls crashing down. What I am blundering about trying to say is this: If someone you love dearly no longer wants the gift of life and fights all attempts to change their point of view, don’t they have the freedom of choice to follow their own path? According to the novel we are also the only sad creatures who believe in ‘free will’ – whatever action we do or do not take is of little consequence because it will simply happen again and again anyway. History would appear to bear out such a sad belief.
As I said at the start I am not entirely certain why I have committed these thoughts to (virtual) paper perhaps I am trying to convince myself of…something. So it goes.