Sitting in my newly crowned hospital throne with a liter of oatmeal colored gruel being pumped into my feeding tube. I can confirm no aftertaste whatsoever. A liter of water to follow, an hour break then the same again. From pauper to king in a thrice.
I love using old words. They make the wrinkles on my face seem somewhat relevant. Being able to live the past and present is an art form, prepares the mind fully for whatever the future might sling in an adventurer’s direction.
The most sensible and caring question so far, ”Have you cried yet, for acceptance leads to recovery”. Truly inspiring words from a kind and considerate new friend, if she will forgive my boldness.
I had a feed tube inserted in my belly this late morning, so looking forward to tasteless nutrition for a while, till the tongue and throat decide to behave nicely. The theatre staff were amazing, bless them all from surgeon, a very clever lady, to all the nurses and assistants.
A good day in hospital with lots of coming and going in my room. After all these years I still find bloodwork terrifying, a natural born coward. A prick in the fingertip makes me wince, the sight of a needle is quite enough to reduce me to a wreck.
The staff are quite alarmingly nice, makes this old goat feel really bad for being a grouch sometimes for absolutely no real reason.
No doubt my patience will give before theirs, thanks be.
Repeated motions, all unimportant movements in the grand scale of things, yet still enough to make me feel a little positive worth. Victories are so thin this side of the divide that just one win is extra sweet.
The wall between ye and me is thin, fragile, like fine English porcelain, yet perturbing hard to break no matter the wills of either party. Best I keep myself separate now awhile anyways, for I am navigating troublesome waters, full of devilfish looking to feast. I am an accomplished voyager, capable of cunning and no end of craft to avoid the jaws of mine adversaries, given half a chance and a helpful southwester. But best I sail alone, for fear of hurting those most dear to me who are loyal beyond a fault, more faithful than ever I deserve.
Practicing relaxing, breathing steadily, sitting quiet and undisturbed. A pleasant enough distraction to keep me focused on tomorrow, which should be better than today, and definably much I improved on the day before, when the Kraken saw fit to show her frightful shape.
I find myself fighting against invisible forces, unrecognized enemies. foes who never entered my vision before. They are natural and internal, beasts that abide within, lucking, waiting patiently for an opportunity to out and cause all manner of ills.
All challengers I meet equally, in the same old way, head on, eyes fiery, expression fixed, willing to give a little beggarly, but not too much, for pride must always be permitted his opportunity to momentary reign. Eventual defeat is assured, for all must meet oblivion in the end, ‘tis the quality of that meeting that reflects well or badly.
I try not to lose hope, for to do so seems a terrible waste of all the effort I have spent over the years playing against the odds, somewhat successfully. To go down fighting for breath as ironic, considering that was is how I begun this belated part of my journey.
Seems a lifetime ago, being replumed by a very clever man, being gifted a lease anew, more than my behaviors end worth derived. Praise be for extra innings.
My voice on most moral issues is controlled by my sensibilities, putting brakes on those unnecessarily judgmental, inflammatory, highly pointed personal opinions that have no place in a balanced, well mannered, empathetic debate. We all hold such inner turmoil’s in our heart and soul, for those are the places best suited to protect such inflammatory views from exposure to what must be a wholly ethical, philosophic, process.
I am ever most careful to separate morality and ethical considerations, the two have little in common, are generally drawn for very differing perspectives, and are often opposing in reference, and conclusion.
Ethics are inborn, natural, knowing right from wrong. We all have ethics, whether we choose to consult them, or no. Morals are leaned, acquired via education, Indoctrination, exterior pressures.
Understanding the difference is fundamental to any question posed in an enlightened modern committed society.
Unfortunately, I have no crystal ball to advise me the outcome of oncoming debates and votes, the darkness that infects you, my beloved brothers, and sisters, has spread most alarmingly to mine portal also, leaving us all equally blind. No matter, surprise has two options, positive or negative, those results is gallingly abstract, sometimes pleasing, occasionally disappointing. The wonderous thing about questions of ethics is that there no correct answers, just timely ones, and what is right for today is probably wholly wrong for tomorrow.
My own beliefs have always intimated that the best course of action is to leave nothing to chance, to see an idea, process, plan, through from beginning to end of as soon as is practical. Leaving matters unresolved in the hands of an elected judiciary, however reasonable and empathetic, is risking fundamental decisions upon possible changes heart, shifting societal circumstances, and unfortunate political fickleness of people who possess power and unnatural influence.
“The trouble with all this battling over rights, is that there is no time left for poetry”. So spoke Cardinal Angelo Voiello to the cloistered Sisters of the Monastery of Sainte Therese just prior to his enforced resignation as Carmerlengo and Cardinal Secretary of State.
Fictional characters quite often utter the truths life does not allow to be spake by us mere creatures of reality. Indeed, in the hustle and bustle of combat, physical and spiritual, the poetic muse loses any semblance of a place in the conversation.
Was a timer heralds, those overseers of all things combative, were required to espouse in verse. A requirement ensuring their number included the most well educated of souls, best suited to be the arbitrators over the most violent of exchanges. Present day bickering has done away with such niceties, statements are now shouted, spat, issued with invective, aurally most distressing.
“Methinks, I do protest to much”. Apologies to William Shakespeare for the purposeful misquote of Hamlet. Act lll, scene ii.
Behold the realization of three simple truths. Leopards are genetically incapable of changing their spots, even the most commendably exalted varieties; individuals tell untruths frequently, easily, believably, especially when being examined for eligibility for a permanent position they have always desired to fulfill, proving the maxim that the very best candidates are inevitably enforced; given an opportunity any human can be trusted, indeed expected, to take every opportunity to stab their most fervent opponents in the vitals for the slightest of perceived wrongs, revenge is the most delicious of motivations.
Two further truths whilst I am emboldened. The continuing, unmitigating gullibility of population, and the untrustworthiness of representatives expected to speak for them are matters of comprehensive record, chiseled for all to peruse into the pillars marking the entryway to any prospective democracy. An election for life should be reserved for those without authority. Just honorary icons, pretty but totally pointless luminescence’s.
There is a strange disconnect amongst progressives that suggests evolution is somehow predictable, automatic, assured, impossible to reverse, temporarily or permanently. Darwinism do seem to confirm that physically such a premise is correct, but matters of conscience, opinion, belief are for more transitory and prone to sudden and extreme resets, against the tides of time, sensibility, and progress.
Such recessions can be diagnosed as symptoms of fear, concern for loss of power, influence, control. They particularly relate to matters of developing sensibility, when the new generations are inclined to lead the past by weight of numbers, or intellectual clarity, dragging their predecessors shadowy viewpoint into the glaring brilliance a better and more enlightened present.
Such anomalous setbacks will in good measure be addressed, corrected, for progress is a river that untimely flows but in one direction, overcoming obstacles, dams, natural or constructed from gathered detritus. Truth is remarkably resilient and lumined.