H,
There has always been this
hint of a feeling that all is not well. I know you have felt it quite a bit
throughout our decades-long trek on earth. I cannot even remember when it
started. I used to think that it was tied to some material problem: a lack of
something, a peculiar problem or the sting of one of my many weaknesses. After a
while I realised that even on the best of days, even in the midst of joy and
love and all the grand feelings of our age, an undercurrent will slowly show up
in my head and heart. I would begin to leave the moment I was in and take this
feeling of unease on a journey of discovery to find what was wrong.
It took my years to realise
that it was the simplest of things really: I was not at ease with life on
earth. I do not know how many people feel this way and how many have the great
distractions that abate this feeling. I can only say that I feel it more and
more as the years go by.
In the past we would call it
the weight of the hours of living and give it some holy relevance. We would use
it to justify the bottle and the philandering and the being wrong because there
is some stupidity going around that makes poetry out of real pain as if that is
the only solution it needs.
The solution is this: we are
not at home and God is our home.
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