Day 88 - Paradoxes - Blips - Finality

"I have often thought, since I had to think of this, how, in all adversity, what God takes away He may give us back with increase. One cannot think that any holy earthly love will cease, when we shall "be like the Angels of God in Heaven." Love here must shadow our love there, deeper because spiritual, without any alloy from our sinful nature, and in the fulness of the love of God. But as we grow here by God's grace will be our capacity for endless love."

Edward Bouverie Pusey, an English Theologian, himself a widower, wrote these words to his friend, Lewis Carroll, a well-known author, when he lost his wife.

 

Charles Lutwidge Dodgson

(Lewis Carroll)

Edward B Pusey also wrote: "What have we to expect? Anything. What have we to hope for? Everything. What have we to fear? Nothing."

Many times we fail to see the blessings behind tragedies and losses, because we are so fixated on what is staring us in the face at the moment. We buckle under, laden by the heavy weight of whatever grief or preoccupation guides our hearts in that space of time. We neither are capable of seeing for looking or hearing for listening. Another paradox.

My next little "blip" of encouragement comes from J.R.R. Tolkien of whom I am particularly fond who writes: "Still round the corner there may wait, a new road, or a secret gate."

Perhaps the road less traveled or the point of no return! Words have had an incredible influence on me my entire life. I love a well written phrase or catchy by line. Words that capture the imagination or spin the mind well past it's natural inclinations and fine tuned harmony into the netherworld of space and time and continual distraction or eventual demise.

 

I think keeping a journal is a wonderful outlet for expressing one's feelings, which in turn frees the mind and outlines a new plan, goal, or objective which in turn may open an entirely new window of possibilities. Previously in my earlier blog I mentioned places I go to hide and shelter myself from a storm brewing and catapulting into an explosive ending to my life.  My journal is also a get release of pent up feelings, wondering and wanderings of my mind. It offers me an escape into the hidden places where I can learn to accept, receive, and heal. It's my "Dear God" letters, poems, songs, and musings. My journals span decades of my life, and thy hold much of the content of the book I need to finish but never seem to find the time to do.

 

I always keep a pad and pencil handy as I am traveling around. I have a tendency to forget things easily, especially when they are important, so I practice the art of documentation. That way I remember somewhat more effectively. Some things, more than less, are actually worth remembering. People, places, things, events, and other "stuff" that riddles the mind and demolishes any thoughts that get in the way of my goal. I sound obtuse, but again, a paradox. Recorders are so impersonal and disguise the sentiment I wish to convey. Hand-written letters, thoughts are much more memorable.

I cannot remember the point of it all, but I do know the end. Puzzles. Where do I go from here?
Regardless, I am grateful for the sojourn I've had in places along the way. Journeys are worthwhile; they help to keep the focus clear and true. Where or where do I go from here?