Four in the Morning
During the day, I feel, in general, that I can cope with most things that are thrown at me - whether work-related or family-related.
In the daytime I am Glass Half Full. I am a perpetual optimist. Whatever happens, I think that things will generally come out pretty well: and that if they don't, I'll be able to deal with it. I have a touching, if misplaced, faith in my own ability to sort things out. During the day I think like this:
So, the Communist's lost the sight of an eye, because he has a detached retina. Perhaps they'll be able to operate and restore the vision, at least partially. He's got an appointment later in the month. I'll go to see him and distract him from thinking about it.
That's how I am in the daytime.
When I wake in the middle of the night I'm someone else.
The Communist's lost the sight of an eye. What if the other one does the same thing: what if the retina detaches in that one too? He'll never be able to work his electric wheelchair anyway now. They probably won't operate to try to restore the sight as they have to do it with a local anaesthetic and he doesn't have a big enough range of movement. His quality of life will just go downhill from now on and it will be terrible to see.
And that's just one strand of the many things that I start worrying about.
The trouble is, that's the time when I'd turn to God, I suppose, if I could, and I'd be secure in the knowledge that He's looking after us, no matter what, and that we'll all go to Heaven in the end.
But I can't: I don't seem able to believe it. To me, it's a bit like astrology, which only works if you think that the patterns of the stars are seen from Earth like sequins on a black blanket. Once you know that they're not spread out on a flat surface, that looking into space is actually looking back in time, then you just can't believe it, can you? If you do, then please tell me how you justify that belief. Again, I'd like to believe it - - but I just can't. (I'm a typical home-loving Cancerian, mind).
And, as for God - well, organised religion seems to me to be such a clever method of crowd control. The most successful religions are the ones which require a lot of commitment of time, emotion and often money too. You've got so much emotion invested in your religion, and it takes up so much of your time, that you just haven't got time to wonder whether it's all true or not. There's that Catch-22 thing at the bottom of it all - - well, you just have to have faith.
I don't have that faith. I was brought up by a Communist atheist, remember: I've been indoctrinated as much as the most devout believers. I love churches, with their often-beautiful architecture and stained glass and atmosphere - but I believe that the atmosphere in the best churches is from all the good people who've been in there, not from the presence of God.
What I do believe, very strongly, is that we must do our best to look after each other during our short spell of life, and I try to put that into practice: though I don't always succeed of course.
If there was a God, would he blame me for not believing? Can you make yourself believe something? I don't know: I haven't tried, or perhaps not very hard.
Blimey! I didn't mean to get all gloomy on you: apologies, and I'm sorry if I've offended anyone who has sincere beliefs. I'm British, so I'm blaming the weather.
Yes, it's still raining, since you ask.
In the daytime I am Glass Half Full. I am a perpetual optimist. Whatever happens, I think that things will generally come out pretty well: and that if they don't, I'll be able to deal with it. I have a touching, if misplaced, faith in my own ability to sort things out. During the day I think like this:
So, the Communist's lost the sight of an eye, because he has a detached retina. Perhaps they'll be able to operate and restore the vision, at least partially. He's got an appointment later in the month. I'll go to see him and distract him from thinking about it.
That's how I am in the daytime.
When I wake in the middle of the night I'm someone else.
The Communist's lost the sight of an eye. What if the other one does the same thing: what if the retina detaches in that one too? He'll never be able to work his electric wheelchair anyway now. They probably won't operate to try to restore the sight as they have to do it with a local anaesthetic and he doesn't have a big enough range of movement. His quality of life will just go downhill from now on and it will be terrible to see.
And that's just one strand of the many things that I start worrying about.
The trouble is, that's the time when I'd turn to God, I suppose, if I could, and I'd be secure in the knowledge that He's looking after us, no matter what, and that we'll all go to Heaven in the end.
But I can't: I don't seem able to believe it. To me, it's a bit like astrology, which only works if you think that the patterns of the stars are seen from Earth like sequins on a black blanket. Once you know that they're not spread out on a flat surface, that looking into space is actually looking back in time, then you just can't believe it, can you? If you do, then please tell me how you justify that belief. Again, I'd like to believe it - - but I just can't. (I'm a typical home-loving Cancerian, mind).
And, as for God - well, organised religion seems to me to be such a clever method of crowd control. The most successful religions are the ones which require a lot of commitment of time, emotion and often money too. You've got so much emotion invested in your religion, and it takes up so much of your time, that you just haven't got time to wonder whether it's all true or not. There's that Catch-22 thing at the bottom of it all - - well, you just have to have faith.
I don't have that faith. I was brought up by a Communist atheist, remember: I've been indoctrinated as much as the most devout believers. I love churches, with their often-beautiful architecture and stained glass and atmosphere - but I believe that the atmosphere in the best churches is from all the good people who've been in there, not from the presence of God.
What I do believe, very strongly, is that we must do our best to look after each other during our short spell of life, and I try to put that into practice: though I don't always succeed of course.
If there was a God, would he blame me for not believing? Can you make yourself believe something? I don't know: I haven't tried, or perhaps not very hard.
Blimey! I didn't mean to get all gloomy on you: apologies, and I'm sorry if I've offended anyone who has sincere beliefs. I'm British, so I'm blaming the weather.
Yes, it's still raining, since you ask.
posted by Daphne at 6:09 pm
6 Comments:
Bless you for your honesty. Yes, that's me blessing you, not some arbitrary god.
I hope you can hold on to your glass-half-full attitude. It sounds like the Communist is doing his best to retain his spirit and, even if he does lose the sight in his other eye, there is still much to be thankful for.
I am not being trite. Forgive me if it sounds it. You know how much I have gone through over the last few years but I will be eternally grateful for the time I had with both my mother and my father and the privilege of being able to be there for them when they were dying. You are a wonderful daughter and the support you give to both your parents (and the rest of your family) is fantastic.
You are so right in believing we should try to do the best we can for others - we can't rely on some divine intervention. It's up to us. Each one of us.
As always, my thoughts are with you (often at four in the morning!).
I like the idea of having a glass half full attitude, that's a great saying - you sound a bit like a cork, no matter how far down you are pushed you will always pop back up to the surface - sign of a real survivor!
I am a Cancer like you June 26 - I don't believe in all that really but I must say most of the definitions of Cancer fit me! scary!
Thank you, Ruth, and thank you, Tillerman.
Of course He won't blame you. He doesn't work that way.
How bout if I give you some of the water from my glass for at night when you can't sleep? That way when your glass is half empty, with my water, it'll be full. As you know, I'm not a worrier so I don't need it anyway.
Hugs for you in the hours you need them.
And thank you, Debby, too - much appreciated.
I was driving near Leeds on Friday and saw a billboard exhorting me to prepare to meet my God.
I immediately thought of you ;-)
Debby - that's what *you* think... but I read scary blogs from people who sincerely disagree.
Tillerman - try reading the other signs' descriptions. I bet at least two of them fit as well as the Cancer ones (I managed to squeeze myself pretty well into seven, and almost convincingly into the other five).
Julie paradox
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