I realize as I am wandering through these pages that there are today threads entangled still within my present. As much as I let go of so much already, there are still a few small unhealed wounds … and they started around this time. Paul had become an important part of my life for almost 6 years, over half of my marriage.
The flowing strains echo out
and capture my heart
longing for the unattainable hope.
Wandering in the maze of guilt
A pluck of the string —
the hopeless grace of rights.
The chaotic sadness
October 4th, 1997
It’s not over yet. Sometimes it feels like it never will be. I wonder now about all those other people out there going through the same thing. I’m a strong person, I have the ability to be a rock; yet now I feel like a squishy sponge.
Even honesty now has become a weapon to him. Right now he hates me for it. Not what he wanted to hear, apparently. I don’t trust him. Closing the door is so hard though. I can’t help peeking out, or at least I want to.
This has been the most difficult 2 1/2 years of my life — our lives — he’s so entrenched in it that it has affected our marriage — weakened it.
Tuesday, October 7th, 1997
Paul went into the hospital sometime on Sunday in Sarnia. No info yet in to what exactly happened.
In my heart
life branches out
extending into areas unknown,
grasping at limbs;
I strive to find the Beauty.
A tear shed for humanity
a fist raised to exclusion.
I see into the darkness,
no fear at the balance of creation.
That which touch’s caress
with insights of profound understanding,
and limital nonsense
permeating a world view.
End of October 1997
At the beginning my hand walked before my eyes. My heart leaped to every heave and sigh. In contemplative acquiescence I understand more, yet believe in whole heart none. The issue of my cynical fatigues saddens my soul. Now my journey has become one to seek the soul of happiness. The glad, innocent fascination with simplicity and mystery. On this, my next phase, I decipher the puzzle of life. I put to question the tongue of the cultural mother, the placement of Leave versus Take and the totem spirit of the world.
How can one question abstraction? Elf spirit is not important. If our minds cannot comprehend, our heart is but the ultimate abstraction.
My vision can swim in another’s river. My heart can beat with the oars of your boat. In the end, there is but nothing that separates each of us but our own walls.
“(Hillman) wants psychology (ideally, all of psychology should become “post” Jungian) to be “radical” by remaining true to the roots of its defining name: the logos of psyche, the mean of soul” [p.125 “Soul of Shamanism“ by Daniel C. Noel]
My ex and Paul had been best friends since 1983 when they were 18yrs old working at the Elephant & Castle, Downtown London, Ontario. Paul and I met at the E&C in 1988, a year before I met my ex. After we married, Paul remained a close friend and eventually, we added a fourth wheel when my sister introduced us to Genevieve in 1993.
Paul and Genevieve were never an item, as much as Paul would have preferred otherwise. We were the Four Musketeers of Mackay.
— Conclusion | Part Four
— Related Post — Old Journals ~ an introduction
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