Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Winston Churchill

"Never, never, never give up."

How Freudian that I just deleted a question mark from the end of that quote. It actually goes like this:
"This is the lesson: never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy."

Either way, I'm having a little trouble really hearing him right now. Oh, I'm listening. He's got a big billboard of himself chanting to me on the side of the road. But, it's just not working.

I've taken a few steps back. Revisiting those wonderful stages of grief, landing gracefully back in Anger. While writing an email to my best friend the other day, I found myself using the word "hate" no less than twelve times. Not so good. And that was before I got the wind knocked out of my sails.

I do not enjoy confusion, complication and tension. They throw my Libran sense of balance in to a destructive tailspin. While I yearn for freedom and spontaneity in my life, I also need a clear path ahead of me, a relative awareness that all is as it should be. The path does not need to be make of solid concrete, but if there are potholes, at least give me a rope to hold on to.

Cryptic enough for you? I 'm just struggling with finding my way in this post Z world. One day I think I can see a few feet ahead on that path, and then all of a sudden one of those potholes sucks me in. And there is no rope. The "talking about it" rope doesn't work. The "avoiding it" rope is a little frayed. The "move on" rope has thorns in it. The "close the door" rope seems so final and honestly, a bit callous.

I would so enjoy a soft chenille rope to wrap itself around me and just hold me. Give me a big hug and not expect anything from me. Silent, constant, unconditional, true. I want someone to understand me.

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