Knowing true responsibility for
your actions means this: be a man of action in small things. Because much of
what is done in the world is clearly done by
men of influence who are not aware of the far reaching repercussions.
Let other men gather bright
gold to themselves and own many acres of well-ploughed soil, let endless worry
trouble them, with enemies nearby, and the peals of the war trumpets driving
away sleep: let my moderate means lead me to a quiet life, as long as my
fireside glows with endless flame.
Let me plant the tender vines
at the proper time, tall fruit trees, myself a rustic, with skilled hands: nor
let hope fail, but deliver the pile-up fruits, and the rich vintage in
overflowing vats, since i worship wherever there's a stump left in the fields,
or an old stone at the crossroads, wreathed with flowers: and whatever fruit of
mine the new season brings I set as an offering before the god of the fields.
–Tibullus
In reading Ann’s summary of her
year I was moved to tears. What a tremendous thing to be able to put into a
concise description, for others to peruse, the many afflicted moments of drama, but also joy, that
stand in inverse proportion to the inability of a bare description to give
them their due.
“What a great idea”, I thought, but
am entirely unable to do the same as the tears which I shed while reading are
becoming more and more spare. Last week two children from the Ohtahara support
group passed away. Tiny little things that barely lived but because of their
precarious condition, that much more loved. Each of us have a realm of focus, our
interests and concerns but my dry eyes and dry throat present an empty retort
to such an onslaught of misfortune.
With another visit to Alyn
hospital looming in January, bereft of the regular machiavellian urgency that
would normally accompany a stay in hospital for my son, everything feels flat
and barely necessary. And I know the opposite to be true. So what is this
feeling? I’ll spare you the mystery; I’m feeling sorry for myself.
Recently I felt entirely betrayed
by a friend, with true friends being so hard to come by, a necessarily hard
surface in my psyche like the rough grating of granite on granite, seems to take the place of trust and openness.
By the end of this month one year
will come to a close, without my mother’s laughter and good nature. With her
needless suffering echoing in my thoughts, waiting for due process, waiting for
me to address them.
It seems to be all about me and
my inability to galvanize a plan to set things right. But of course everything
is fine if we have mild intentions, humble opinions and are soft spoken. If we
accept that there is nothing left to chance, only to personal ignorance and the
mechanics of a process unknown. Strange to feel let down by oneself, but then I
know the accruement of fatigue plays tricks on our minds. Fewer thoughts, small
ambitionless actions, tiny circles with slight ripples are the order of the
day.
I am here, quietly reading and praying for ease for you and Segev.
ReplyDeleteI can only echo Elizabeth. I am here, too. You and yours are in my thoughts.
ReplyDeleteIt's both understandable and acceptable to feel sorry for yourself. You are exceptionally selfless and tenacious, but you are only human. I hope you can cut yourself some slack. Always in my thoughts.
ReplyDelete