Live on

Something strange happened yesterday. 

I received an email which should have put a smile on my face but instead I found myself brushing away hot tears.  After a long long time I experienced a sense of loss, something resembling bereavement.

For the good news inevitably meant the severing of a relationship that I thought had ended a long time ago.  

Human beings are wired to cope with such situations. Our minds shield our daily living from certain memories to enable us to live on, while hiding, in cookies and temp files, all those folders that contain pages of our lives we once lived but now cannot face. 

Unfortunately, there is no delete button or recycle bin for those memories.  So they linger in the graveyards of our minds and occasionally pop out to scare the hell out of us.

This morning I woke up much calmer.  More zen.  The corpses have once more been buried.  The skeletons are back in the closet.  The tears firmly held within their ducts.  The heart once again bolted behind iron bars.

Life goes on. I live on....with my growing hair and my silence.  My green water bottle and my dreams.  My pomegranates and my wonder....I live on.

Once upon a time I was rich...

Reading has been one of my hobbies forever it seems.  I like books, stories, words.  Reading made me rich.

But for the past 5 months or so, I have not read a single book!  No concentration.  No discipline.

Could it be that my own story has made all other stories irrelevant?

We all need to know our place in this life.  It took me a long time to find mine.  I looked for it in words strung like a beautiful necklace, in people that walked into and out of my life, in countries wide and far that swallowed me and spat me out.

Yes, once upon a time I was rich, roaming the vast expanses of faces, books and lands searching for my story.

Today, I know my story.  But Grace sold me into slavery. 

The story that I am is not mine.

The story, like the slave, belongs to Him.