Thankfully I was able to sleep through most of the night, though I woke up earlier than I wanted or intended. The morning has been very rough, yet not as much as other mornings. I have put in a call to my psychiatrist concerning the akathisia from which I currently suffer. Hopefully, I pray, he will call me back. Of course, I will call again if he does not call me this morning … and I will keep calling until I get ahold of him.
Holding onto hope by faith is very difficult at times, but I keep trying to tell myself that “this, too, shall pass.” It is, as I’ve said before, an extremely tough row to hoe. The effects of akathisia (at its worst) practically paralyze me on the inside, but God has been very gracious and good. Generally speaking, the days and nights are getting better and, like now, I am able to write and read without feeling like I’m coming completely unglued.
Of course, there must be an answer – in other words, cure – for my plight or, at least, I keep telling myself. And naturally I keep praying for some cure and return to normalcy. This leads me to once again thank my family, friends, readers and fellow-bloggers for your thoughts, encouragement and continuing prayers for me. Words to adequately express my deep gratitude allude me. I can only offer my sincere, heartfelt thankfulness.
Have you ever seen your life reflected in someone’s eyes?
Have you ever felt your unseen self floating in the skies?
Have you ever heard your unsung song sung in a stream?
Have you ever met your mirror image in a vivid dream?
Have you ever known there is more to you than you see?
Have you ever shown yourself what your self could be?
Have you ever been drawn beyond the dawn of being . . .?
Have you ever?
From which side are you looking at the mountain?
Are you drinking water from a different fountain?
Because you and I do not quite see eye to eye,
But we both cry that we’re right (in our own sight)
And this causes quite a plight that might lead us
To fisticuffs if we persist in insisting on our way
Day after day, chiefly when there’s no diplomacy
As we boastfully continue raving to hopefully win
An argument not even worth the victory,
Which is contradictory to our deeply felt feelings,
Especially as we’re reeling from the latest punch!
Might it be possible for us to change perspective?
Just for one moment, irrespective of our feelings?
Might it be possible for us to see a different point
Of view in lieu of our own, to see the other side
Of the mountain? To drink of the other fountain?
Then we might find out it was all a matter of . . .
Is love not gracious and living self-giving?
Can love be love apart from self-emptying?
Ah! What is it, then, to think of self first
And foremost while letting others thirst
For genuine, selfless affection that bursts
From a passionately compassionate heart
That puts others first in every part of life?
Yes, this turns modern thought on its head
And puts so much pop psychology to bed!
But let it not be said love is self-centered
When surely we have best been mentored
By those who chose to invest in the other;
Besides which, one learns to love oneself
When he has begun to truly love outside
Of self in an outpouring of adoring love,
For do we ever really learn who we are
Outside of company as our guiding star?
So let us love greatly, both near and far!
Note: This poem is largely in response to not only self-centeredness but also the ideology of radical individualism. It is an aesthetic statement in favor of communialism and the idea that one “finds oneself” within the context of community and, more specifically, that one experiences authentic love in ongoing reciprocity, which begins with the giving of oneself to the other.
More than grains of sand on the seashore
Thoughts lay dormant inside of my mind
Brought by time as my soul water washes
Over them again ‘n again in ebb and flow
As the Spirit blows across the coastal line
Of my finite psyche with whispers of love
From above from an infinite space
In which I find my individual place
As I stare into the beautiful face of Beauty
While serenely thinking thoughts brought
To me from a primordial past of humanity
Of which I am like only one grain of sand
In an eternity I cannot understand
Not do I try to apprehend what is beyond
. . .
I rest me in the vest of my own finitude
With an attitude of humblest gratitude
As I stare into the beautiful face of Beauty
With an innate duty to bow in reverence
As thoughts lay dormant inside my mind
You clamor to be heard but then you stammer;
It just does not come out right though you try
With all of your might in the sight of everyone
And you’ve only just begun to spin your story
And so you begin to falter at the altar of fright
Because you feel you’re blowing it by showing
All of the world you cannot take the large stage
Even at your age, but why not turn a new page?
Let the sage inside you take over for the time;
Wisdom will guide, not chide, and you will not
Abide in fear so near to tears and they’ll hear
Your voice loud ‘n clear as you steer the stage
And engage the audience, gauge their response
And know that you have captured this show . . .
And, too, that it’s only stage fright that bites!
Every seed needs to grow through pain to gain its promise,
And t’would be insane otherwise to think it should shrink
From such potentiality in reality of its life now just begun,
When the sun beckons the seed to break free, feed ‘n grow
In the show of maturation by the saturation of an alive life
Within a hive of nature in which it should strive to become
What it was meant to be for all to see one magnificent tree,
And is this not the way with life so rife with pain that gain
Comes not with comfort but that we suffer without buffer?
Ah! Should we pout that our sprout comes about with pain?
But there is pleasure, too, in a measure of genuine growth!
Our reaction is satisfaction in but a fraction of maturation!
Yes . . .
Every seed needs to grow through pain to gain its promise: