A storm is coming...
Have any of you ever felt like something really badd was coming? Some storm was brewing just out of sight but you knew it was headed straight for you? That darkness was growing and there was nothing you could do to stop it? I'm sure some of you have.
I bring this up because I have one of those feelings. A vague intuition that something is coming and it's going to tear apart the landscape of my life. Some irreversible line of fate that's preparing to change life as I know it. There's nothing that I hate more than the feeling of hopelessness, and right now, that's exactly what I am -- hopeless. Hopless to do anything because I don't know what's coming.
There's nothing I can do... I guess I'll jump that fence when I come to it. There'll be water if God wills it.
Anyway, just wanted to get that off my chest, thatnks for reading.
'So do we pass the ghosts that haunt us later in our lives; they sit undramatically by the roadside like poor beggars, and we see them only from the corners of our eyes, if we see them at all. The idea that they have been waiting there for us rarely if ever crosses our minds. Yet they do wait, and when we have passed, they gather up their bundles of memory and fall in behind, treading in our footsteps and catching up, little by little.'
-Stephen King, Wizard and Glass
'Each of us is all the sums he has not counted: subtract us into nakedness and night again, and you shall see begin in Crete four thousand years ago the love that ended yesterday in Texas. . . The seed of our destruction will blossom in the desert, the alexin of our cure grows by a mountain rock, and our lives are haunted by a Georgia slattern, because a London cutpurse went un-hung. Each moment is the fruit of forty thousand years. The minute-winning days, like flies, buzz home to death, and every moment is a window on all time.'
-Thomas Wolfe, Look Homeward, Angel
posted by Alex Sousa @ 5:35 PM
4 comments
4 Comments:
Its closer than we all think. I can feel the wind changing and I can see the dew on the grass freezing.
Yes.
I remember chelsey sent me this picture that she called Girl in Midair. And I've always connected to that. Maybe i'll blog that one day.... but... its like this:
I'm a girl in midair.
I've just jumped, I'm above what happens next. But I don't know what is underneath me. I don't know if there is cool, refreshing water to come, or the hard cold ground that would cut and smash my face and my bones. I don't know what is next, but I don't have a good feeling about it. Because it is a mystery to me.
I think you are right. There is the ground, or like you called it, a storm.
And I hate that there is nothing we can do about it. There is nothing stopping it. We only hope we can pick up the pieces of our broken palaces after it is gone.
That's what I mean.
A storm, a blind leap, an untraceable path of fate that brought us to where we are - call it whatever you want it's all the same thing, it's all the same feeling. The feeling of hopelessness that you know you can't stop anything, the best you can hope for is that you come out intact. Because life does only travel in one direction. There are no time-outs left, no penalties to call, this is the final play and whatever you do counts.
Can you even hope to come out alright though? Or is it more of hoping that there is still hope. That some grace will descend upon you and get you out with at least the shreds of the life you knew? Is hope too much to ask? Or is hope misleading, giving us some false sense of security that some good can come. I'm an optomist, but I'm also a realist. A strange combination but it's gotten me this far. I know when the darkness is coming, and I know when to bow my head and hang on. I've seen the darkest places a man can go, and I can smell it coming. Who will come out on top? We can only guess because life takes no prisoners.
Rule Discordia.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years,
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
-William Ernest Henley, Invictus
'What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out if this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
-T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land
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