My mind is clogged with emotions and arguments, though I have no words to tell of them. I wish someone else would say how I felt, the ways songs have the ability to tap into the longings you didn't realise you needed to articulate. I need a more eloquent voice than mine to elucidate my frustrations. I need to know that I am not stood in 'the hallway' on my way. Neither in one place or another but the often frequented and rarely appreciated no-man's-land between life's 'rooms'. How did I become so cynical? So predisposed to judgement? Is it simply because things have got worse, that previously there was little to be cynical about? Or has life unearthed in me the darker side of my nature, that would rather revel in people's faults and hypocrisies than choose to view the brighter, lighter side of life?
Did Church fail me or did I fail Church? Did God fail me? Did either or both, or perhaps I let go of the propensity to try and failed myself?
The God who wastes nothing.
Perhaps there is no failure. Is Church necessary for me to feel as though I am walking the path, or is Church the motorway of religious life - the quickfire bypass which smooths the way and straightens the path so that all can follow in an orderly fashion and arrive in good time at the destination of choice? Perhaps it is possible to meander the way or did I stop completely. Not in a positive "Let's enjoy the view" fashion, but rather a miserable depletion of fuel which led to a go-slow-and-stop. This was no sudden breakdown. I have not surprised myself with my lack of movement. There was a slowing down. Why did I not refuel? Is that the root cause of this unplanned yet unprevented pit stop - the lack of desire to move?
Maybe it is not another voice I need but another example. Someone to show that wandering the detour route is possible and even enjoyable.
Self-awareness, or maybe paranoia, tells me that I have always been a golf-buggy among Ford Escorts. I did not drive the same as my counterparts. My mind wandered. I explored the roundabouts while they took the flyovers- willing to trust the path that had been laid. No need to question the logic that had built it. In my naivety, i thought of myself as a fast mover. Someone who's mind stormed off into desolate places. I now realise that this may be the slower way to travel, though not necessarily as desolate as first thought.
I know - my head tells me and logic prevails to assure me - that I am not alone. Others have thought and felt like I have. Unfortunately, this doesn't alter the fact that I feel alone. That the path has not opened before me lit and newly tarmacked. I beat my way down a forest track. I know there is light, there will be an opening onto a smoother and greener plain. But I don't know how far that is and I cannot envisage what this 'green land' will look like. I cannot imagine myself on the other side.
God, I have no trauma or pain. I do not suffer or want. My life is far from difficult or empty. I just wish I knew you - wish that I saw you. I wish I could sit with you long enough to know the answers, or at least to know which were the right questions. Bidden or not bidden, I know you are present. Perhaps that will have to suffice. For now.
