Wednesday 9 June 2010

Thought Picnic: Thoughts in grief

Get the thoughts
The thoughts that crowd my mind continuously as events and activities of the days past occupy one to the absence of intimate or social contact.
It is an unhealthy existence in some ways, my big apartment protects me from the elements but does not protect me from my thoughts – I sit like a hermit rolling the thoughts around without pause or stillness – it is no meditation but that is what it seems like.
I think I am a private man; I come alive at work, in gatherings I could be quite reserved, whereas with strangers a conversation can begin and it could go on for hours if time allows it.
One needs to get out more for this kind of interaction because I am noticing that it is seriously energy sapping having to deal with things alone.
Person to person
In grief, one needs to talk, maybe one needs a hug, a sense of caring outside oneself can go a long way – many calls need to be made but how can one give comfort when you are self-comforted and how can one give succour from just being a loner of sorts?
Indeed, my dad has a point, companionship has its uses and benefits but I have grown up to eschew such communal essentials that the thoughts of those are too alien to contemplate for any length of time.
Even when I was very ill, I was the most vulnerable in need in such great help and even I employed that help quite sparingly – the comfort of being in my own home for days on end seemed to have a tonic effect for my recovery.
My neighbours and friends did a lot for which one is grateful but introversion and introspection in this very private person is most externalised in the writing and the expressions in words.
Mine for me
That surely is not enough, but change is probably going to be hardest thing to entertain; the relationships I desire are far from the norm, the companionships I crave are different, the love that fulfils is strange but the happiness it would bring is universally understood.
A hand to hold, a hug so bold, a kiss so brazen and a love that dare not speak its name – a dare for life and dear to live for – it is time to find and keep, no more unrequited love, no more fear to approach – Gosh! I write better than I would do, but the notice is out, there are things to do, this man must no more live alone.

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