Illness

Hey creatures,

All I've written in my paper journal has to do with dream fragments involving guitar amps and mysterious women who I never quite get to know for more than a moment.

But in reality, I am ill. In my dreams, I am healthy. The fantasy-reality barrier is unmistakable today.

Being sick like this brings up all sorts of old feelings, memories and insecurities. My muscles ache, my joints ache, my nose is intermittently clogged, I am cold, then hot, cold, then hot... Slow body, slow mind. Even reading takes effort! What is this?!

It's illness Loh, you've been here before, you've struggled with it and you've made peace with it. The easiest times have been when you had a material wealth at your fingertips and someone to love and care for you. So of course your mind wanders to your lost love and your mother and father. They were the ones who would bring you soup, rub your back, take your temperature, bring you glass after glass of cold water or mug after mug of hot tea.

Oh you're really feeling it now Loh! It's not enough to be physically ill but your emotions are welling up inside you like a bottle rocket and your lungs are becoming shaken and your face is losing its relaxed complexion as you remember all those sweet moments... How in love you were... How deeply humbled and grateful you were... Miso soup.

Calm down child. Just... Calm down. Here you are. Sick and alone. So what are you going to do about it? Revel in your sorrow for missing the ones you love? That's not going to magically bring any bodies to your rescue. Wishing for the past isn't going to create a hot bowl of miso soup.

Oh but how I wish...

So stop wishing and start loving! Don't worry about all those things you can't do because your body is at war. Fight the war! Love your body! And love that memory of miso soup and her soft cheek accepting your gratitude, love that memory of scrambled eggs and your mothers' smile... You don't remember them because they were moments never to be repeated, you remember them because they are moments that repeat themselves continuously in your heart. They make you strong. That love makes you strong. So remember the love, not the fear of losing it.

Oh but can't someone just feel my forehead? Take my temperature? Put on a movie? Open the window? Heat some soup?

No, no, no, no, no, no. YOU feel your forehead. Are you hot or cold? If your hand cannot deliver the strength to throw a disc in the player of your television, you do not have the strength to devote your attention to a movie right now. No one is here to take care of you now Loh. It's you and you alone.

But I don't want to be alone.

Has it occured to you that this entire blog entry is a sort of conversation you are having with yourself? The strength is in you. The awareness is in you. The attitude is in you. So is the illness. So are your demons. You know that. So you're not alone. The question is are you going to listen to your demons, your sorrow and your regret? Or are you going to listen to the voice of reason, truth and beauty?

Hey, have you noticed that they're trying to combine environmentalism with VISA cards up there at the top of the screen?

Pretty pathetic, huh?

What is this world coming to?

A big change. You know.

Yeah. Hey I guess I"m not such bad company after all. Maybe I can take care of myself.

Let's go for a walk, you and I.

Who are you? If you aren't me?

The Voice of God, and I've got some important things to say. I've BEEN saying them all along, but now that I've got your ear... Burn a sacrament and follow me. I promise, you will not feel any better sitting around here sulking.

Hey... I'm sorry I haven't been listening.

Apologies mean nothing. Do I appear vengeful to you? I forget and I cry and I lose sight just like you do. So just listen.

I will. I know now... Isolation can be fun!

Hah! You don't even know the trillionth of it Loh, O God of Naught, come explore the jungle.