awake thou that sleepest...
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Mar. 3rd, 2007 | 11:01 pm
It seems to be in the wind, this prompting to set aside lethargy and join the land of the living. Today was a beautiful day, with plenty of sunshine and just the right amount of wind. The sky was much bluer than it has been in some time, and the little bit of white was high enough to make it all the more vast. And all day I fought that nagging desire I have had of late to sleep. In fact I didn't sleep today, but every little while it was there, urging me to escape. Actually, I've been napping less than usual(I've always loved napping), but the escape-nap has been more of a temptation during leisure hours. What it is I am escaping, I hardly know. Certain ideas having been churning in my strange bit of brain, about life and death, though not as morbidly as the words themselves may lead one to believe. Actually, the passage in the Old Testament about God setting life and death before Israel , and urging them to choose life, that seems more the sense of what I mean. Only in the Old Testament it seemed obvious that life was GOOD and death was BAD, and that disobeying God would get Israel into trouble. My musings on life and death aren't nearly so pristine and, well, divinely appointed. At this point, more than ever before in my admittedlty short life, I feel so detached from the events and people in it. Worse, there are few moments when a niggling self-awareness and self-appraisal doesn't crowd in on more productive activities and thoughts. I see other people, and how their occupations(whatever they may be, whether exalted or humble, professional or domestic), well, OCCUPY them to a healthy degree, and I wonder why I haven't taken to it. I'm not sure how, but I feel as if I am not quite alive. Is it possible, I've wondered, for grown-ups to be chagelings? It's preposterous for a Christian to talk this way, or at least it seems so to me at the moment. Somewhere in this there must be a great deal of fear, my fear that is. If it could be this simple, I'd call it a fear of making mistakes. Actually, it is rather a relief to think of it that way, because that simply makes me proud. Pride is the thing which separates the devil from God. Love is what unites me to God, His not mine. Perhaps it is this same love that insists on ripping the decaying filth from my hands, lest it begin to eat at me as well. So be it. Perhaps I can't choose life after all, but I am content if He has chosen me.