Cyclothymic Cister

Before the Internet, I used to lie in bed at night composing thoughts as if I were talking to a wise entity. (An actual face never came to mind). I would re-word and re-phrase the thoughts till they were crystal clear. Now I can blog. And hopefully, there are a lot of wise people with real faces out there who might just comment back.

Monday, August 27, 2007

on turning fifty

As a bear innately knows when to wake from hibernation, so my memories of the past 50 years have awakened from slumber. I haven’t been dwelling on the fact that I’m turning fifty. The memories just seem to be connected to an inner clock. As the chimes ring in the half-century mark, the memories yawn and stretch and come out of hiding.

The scenes intrude on my day to day life with voodoo-like jabs. Some scenes make me smile or even laugh out loud, and then suddenly one will make me cringe with embarrassment as another makes me sob with grief, and still another stirs the ache of regret. Some memories make me look back with wistful longing. I have no control of this bombardment. There seems to be no end to the flashbacks.

I’m trying to benefit from this opportunity, if I must endure it. Will I make positive changes? Will I make the same mistakes twice? Can I forgive myself for the bad I’ve done and show humility for the good? Have other people forgiven me for my selfishness and foolishness? Do I have enough fortitude to really be a better person? Or am I too lazy? Will I accomplish things that I thought I would? Should I simply be resigned to the way things were and are? Will I die before I find out?

Surely I’ve been faithful over a few things. God, remember my frame that I am just dust

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