Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Strange Intimates
Coming off a Twilight, I'm left with the difficult decision of what to do with my Day Off; a myriad possibilities. A walk down the Thames? (air temp -2 degrees) Vegging out at Borders with Terry Pratchett? Tidying up my flat?
Someone thinks I should Seek, and go Find. Me, I think :
Sleep.
Ja, ist gut.
*********
Sometimes one has to wonder about Priorities. You reminded me once that I had to get mine straight. And so I've given it some thought.
What drives us all; what is it that people Most Desire? A sense of purpose? True Love? Wealth? Power, success?
For me, I think it's Peace. That which I yearn for most of all in the world, above all else.
The rest are fragile, and quite probably unnecessary. The warmth of a good woman, the trappings of wealth, the heady heights of success, the bracing mantle of power - all can ultimately run stale, or be lost at a flash. If I should die tomorrow, then I pray I die with a heart at peace, with myself, and this world. And with my God.
Perhaps one day, I will find that Peace.
**********
In response to xena (People just need a listening ear. And on the internet, the world are your ears (and eyes). Even if they are just silent lurkers.) and DW's reply quite possibly sparked unintentionally by myself, I'd like to give voice to a vague thought that I find difficult to verbalise.
No.
The world is not my Ears and Eyes. These pages do not give me comfort. They give me a release, from myself. For myself.
But all of you, all of Them. Are strangers.
Most of you, anyhow. There can be no substitute for, forgive me xena, the intimacy of Real Life. Of giving vent to thoughts, and receiving in return the richness of humanity. Thoughts, words. Smiles, grimaces. Eyes. Memories.
When I hurt here, like DW, I hurt alone.
As heartless and cynical as this sounds, none of you matter to me. I relish your responses, but most of you are masks to me. Unknown, untried, untested. Forgotten, tomorrow.
There have been few that remained seared in memory, the day after tomorrow.
They are my Ears and Eyes, or have been in the past. Not the cold, hard vastness of the internet. Intimate strangers? I think not.
Coming off a Twilight, I'm left with the difficult decision of what to do with my Day Off; a myriad possibilities. A walk down the Thames? (air temp -2 degrees) Vegging out at Borders with Terry Pratchett? Tidying up my flat?
Someone thinks I should Seek, and go Find. Me, I think :
Sleep.
Ja, ist gut.
*********
Sometimes one has to wonder about Priorities. You reminded me once that I had to get mine straight. And so I've given it some thought.
What drives us all; what is it that people Most Desire? A sense of purpose? True Love? Wealth? Power, success?
For me, I think it's Peace. That which I yearn for most of all in the world, above all else.
The rest are fragile, and quite probably unnecessary. The warmth of a good woman, the trappings of wealth, the heady heights of success, the bracing mantle of power - all can ultimately run stale, or be lost at a flash. If I should die tomorrow, then I pray I die with a heart at peace, with myself, and this world. And with my God.
Perhaps one day, I will find that Peace.
**********
In response to xena (People just need a listening ear. And on the internet, the world are your ears (and eyes). Even if they are just silent lurkers.) and DW's reply quite possibly sparked unintentionally by myself, I'd like to give voice to a vague thought that I find difficult to verbalise.
No.
The world is not my Ears and Eyes. These pages do not give me comfort. They give me a release, from myself. For myself.
But all of you, all of Them. Are strangers.
Most of you, anyhow. There can be no substitute for, forgive me xena, the intimacy of Real Life. Of giving vent to thoughts, and receiving in return the richness of humanity. Thoughts, words. Smiles, grimaces. Eyes. Memories.
When I hurt here, like DW, I hurt alone.
As heartless and cynical as this sounds, none of you matter to me. I relish your responses, but most of you are masks to me. Unknown, untried, untested. Forgotten, tomorrow.
There have been few that remained seared in memory, the day after tomorrow.
They are my Ears and Eyes, or have been in the past. Not the cold, hard vastness of the internet. Intimate strangers? I think not.
