The Desert
I can smell death everywhere. I’m pretty sure it’s a me problem, but I can’t rule out the possibility that it’s everyone else missing something.
Right now I’m in a Dublin cafe, trying not to smoke the cigarettes I just bought because people here are the same as in America and have adopted the same taboos. Everyone is a little fat. Pride flags are everywhere. Vaping has replaced good old fashioned combustion as the nicotine ingestion method of choice . It’s all very logical but to me if feels so sterile. No children. Just middle aged people , and young ones to be fair, who feel sexless. Who want stupid things. That’s one of my problems I can’t help feeling like everything I used to want is stupid.
I have one child and another on the way and two dogs. And for 3 years my life has revolved around caring for others. I’m ok at it but it didn’t come naturally. I felt I had to let go of childish things. And I did and even on holiday when I want to pick up my old toys they feel wrong. It’s a me problem right?
I was laid off last year and have been working contract since and applying for jobs. My professional life has thus also been in the control of others. I call it wandering the desert. My life subsumed to God and his plan (and to what I deserve). A big part of me believes there is a plan. Past setbacks have been blessings and have led me to a blessed place. So why can’t I enjoy it?
I’ve never been good at enjoying things. And now without my child or my dogs it’s even harder. Forget who am I without them. Forget even “who am I”? A question I am beyond bored with. It’s more like, why anything? Why do I exist? To serve others. Why can’t I embrace that? Is there an oasis on the other side of my ego?
My friend Sam has it worse. He’s a genius but he hit the end of the road on an academic physics career. His nerves started hurting. ( so many auto immune diseases. So much life tearing at itself now.) He laughed when I told him I thought everything happens for a reason. He’s a materialist. Look where that’s got him.
I’ve been listening to the Bible in a year podcast. In the bath I listened as Elijah raised a child from the dead. A child that God gave to a kind woman despite her fears. A child that was lost then found. How much more joy could we have if we walked through life with faith, the priest said. How much more ease if we trusted God to hold us. I’m only like a third of the way there. I trust Him somewhat. My faith is weak.
So I sit in this dead Irish cafe and remember Milton and hope that standing and waiting is good enough. That His plan is unfurling and that one day in this life or the next I will understand and enjoy it all.