I have been troubled. I have tried to brush it off, sweep it under the carpet, surrender it to the heavens. But nothing is working. When it is quiet and the wine has worn off, the maggots come back again and in gusto.
In my desperation to survive the next 7 days and night, I turned to Paulo Coelho - the one author, who God seems to have destined to be His Voice of my reasoning. It was a book that I put off reading - thinking what has a book about sex got to teach me through Mr Coelho. I was so wrong.
The person who gives him or herself wholly, the person who feels freest, is the person who loves most wholeheartedly. And the person who loves wholeheartedly feels free. That is why, regardless of what I might experience, do or learn, nothing makes sense.
For the past 5 months, I have been meandering - trying to figure out why I went all the way to the north of Spain only to come back and have my life do such a big turnaround. I had expected to come back, feeling more love than anything else - because when you have been rung of everything there is in you, there is only one way to fill it all back up - thru love. And if that is so, why have I instead been burning my bridges?
And if I was suppose to learn patience and surrender to a higher will and being, why am I finding it so hard to accept what is in front of me? Why is the faith, the trust, so difficult and long in coming?
I've learned that waiting is the most difficult bit, and I want to get used to the feeling, knowing that you're with my, even when you're not by my side.
I have been troubled. I have been running through in my head snippets of conversation that could exist, that may exist, that could very possibly never ever take place. I have been fighting down the urge to pick up the phone and write away till my heart's content. But then I ask myself - what do I want out of doing that? And because I cannot answer that question, I refrain from doing so.
I am two women: one wants to have all the joy, passion and adventure that life can give me. The other wants to be a slave to routine, to family life, to the things that can be planned and achieved. I'm a housewife and a prostitute, both of living in the same body and doing battle with each other.
Objectivity. That has been hard to come by - burnt the bridge to my one and only objective-looking person in life. And though I have the name and number, pride stops me from asking. Shame stops me from screaming "I need you." Fear stops me from saying "tell me it is not just in my own head."
In my desperation to survive the next 7 days and night, I turned to Paulo Coelho - the one author, who God seems to have destined to be His Voice of my reasoning. It was a book that I put off reading - thinking what has a book about sex got to teach me through Mr Coelho. I was so wrong.
The person who gives him or herself wholly, the person who feels freest, is the person who loves most wholeheartedly. And the person who loves wholeheartedly feels free. That is why, regardless of what I might experience, do or learn, nothing makes sense.
For the past 5 months, I have been meandering - trying to figure out why I went all the way to the north of Spain only to come back and have my life do such a big turnaround. I had expected to come back, feeling more love than anything else - because when you have been rung of everything there is in you, there is only one way to fill it all back up - thru love. And if that is so, why have I instead been burning my bridges?
And if I was suppose to learn patience and surrender to a higher will and being, why am I finding it so hard to accept what is in front of me? Why is the faith, the trust, so difficult and long in coming?
I've learned that waiting is the most difficult bit, and I want to get used to the feeling, knowing that you're with my, even when you're not by my side.
I have been troubled. I have been running through in my head snippets of conversation that could exist, that may exist, that could very possibly never ever take place. I have been fighting down the urge to pick up the phone and write away till my heart's content. But then I ask myself - what do I want out of doing that? And because I cannot answer that question, I refrain from doing so.
I am two women: one wants to have all the joy, passion and adventure that life can give me. The other wants to be a slave to routine, to family life, to the things that can be planned and achieved. I'm a housewife and a prostitute, both of living in the same body and doing battle with each other.
Objectivity. That has been hard to come by - burnt the bridge to my one and only objective-looking person in life. And though I have the name and number, pride stops me from asking. Shame stops me from screaming "I need you." Fear stops me from saying "tell me it is not just in my own head."
Someone told me that if I believe that what was said and what is happening is my answer from a knee-mail, then I should not let logic win. But yet, my logic has been my greatest struggle in the last 6 days. The thought of "people always say things they do not mean" has been plaguing my soul.
If you live your life intensely, you experience pleasure all the time and don't feel the need for sex. When you have sex, it's out of a sense of abundance, because the glass of wine is so full that it overflows naturally.
I should be happy. As I said in 2 posts ago. I should be overjoyed. Yet, something in me refuses to let me bask in the warmth of the joy and the "love" if you can call it that.
So tonight I pray to God - let me find withing me the capacity to love. Because if I don't - I will never believe nor deserve any of the good that comes my way. Simply because I will fail to recognise it when I should.
I have had more than 11 minutes for the last 3 1/2 years and from what I have been told - I have more than 11 minutes even when we are old and grey.
If you live your life intensely, you experience pleasure all the time and don't feel the need for sex. When you have sex, it's out of a sense of abundance, because the glass of wine is so full that it overflows naturally.
I should be happy. As I said in 2 posts ago. I should be overjoyed. Yet, something in me refuses to let me bask in the warmth of the joy and the "love" if you can call it that.
So tonight I pray to God - let me find withing me the capacity to love. Because if I don't - I will never believe nor deserve any of the good that comes my way. Simply because I will fail to recognise it when I should.
I have had more than 11 minutes for the last 3 1/2 years and from what I have been told - I have more than 11 minutes even when we are old and grey.
Fonts in italics are excerpts that from the book
11 Minutes by Paulo Coelho.
11 Minutes by Paulo Coelho.
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