Stagnation

02 March 2014

Would the fourth try be the final one? It's been three times that I've strung out sentences no one got to read. In a maudlin perspective, why would my written communication differ from my oral one? No one wants to hear them out. What a fallacy that sentiment is! Everyone who has something to say is worth listening to.

Previously, I typed out how my Sunday is beautiful because of the type of peace I am enjoying. It is of the kind that was not borne of boredom but simply exists in itself as much as a bubble bursts into nothing we can see. The peace I enjoy is not the I'm-done-with-my-chores variant but that of a bird-forgotten-because-it-is-rare type. It simply knocked on a window I wasn't aware was long ago there. It will leave when it does. When it would be back is a surprise.

I postponed writing for a while since I have nothing worth typing. I see evil but I refuse to speak of it. I cannot keep myself from seeing selfishness and self-serving lifestyles. As I see, so do I judge. In my mind, I was a self-appointed judge passing out my verdict. That was sinning right there. I resist acknowledging that my heart has concocted hideous thoughts. I refuse to let them escape my lips. My voice would not be the embodiment of sinful thinking. These thoughts have been tagged, labeled and released, the same way endangered wildlife are treated. The difference is that they visit me more often and sooner than expected and we didn't meet for tea and cakes; we wrestle. "You have already sinned by thinking ill in your mind, what difference would its proclamation be? You know very well that we will torment you until you speak up."

And so did they. Keeping my head from prattling off expends excessive energy. Silence is exhausting but when there is no good to what I want to say, speaking is not an option. Speech is not my agent for bloodshed so I do not speak at that state or I’d end up scathing everyone around me with my tongue. I also try not to be a fool who believes a person's words that are negated by the person's actions. So help me God!

Bernadette in TBBT could have absolved herself for taking the pair of donated boots with, "It's okay, I serve soup to homeless people!" Still, doing good or keeping oneself from doing bad is no ticket to undermine other people’s weakness to temptation much more a discount deal which permits the subscriber to sin when the circumstances get too tempting.

The Lord has, in His blatant subtlety, presented me beauty. What have I but a pair of naked eyes that could not forego a neighbor's selfishness? What could measure the might of Jesus' blood which renders the all-seeing eyes of God to see us as blameless and pure?

Hope is another extravagant commodity I purchase. My mind does not rest in reasoning for other people's shortcomings. Formulating altruistic reasons behind acts of concentrated selfihness and insiduous wickedness takes a heavy toll. A road end is reached when, though I am certain of the wickedness of the act, it remains integrated and intact - a mechanism that runs the world. A distressing heartache it is. During these times it is easy to denounce the wonder and the magic there is in not knowing. For this You exact from me something I do not trust I could produce - faith.