‘Of Men and God’, a film of the trappists monks in Algeria when the civil war peaked, is about the ways in which we learn to accept things, including acknowledging the fear of the peril from that which we cannot control. Perhaps it is not happiness one has, in times of extreme duress, from forces uncontrolled, and individuals whose choices have led them to dark places. But it is possible to know where and why you are.
I did so much because I wanted to be of service and to be an free woman. And that cannot be taken away, no matter how pie in the sky idealistic that sounds. Yes, someone can put a gun to a person’s head and tell them to say this or say that. And perhaps they will, in order to resist the devaluing of life until the end. But also they can say ‘No’ or nothing at all. There is always a choice.
I am free, and while at times, it may seem emotionally that abusive individuals in Wales, and abusive coaches in Victoria, and the abuse of apathy in doctors and the progressive and helpless nature of this disease are somrhow connected, they are not. And no one can stop me from loving; even learning to love those so damaged or dulled by life that the light of empathy may have dimmed and almost gone out. And maybe they will take the risk to care again then.
I might not be lucky in some ways, but I am free and I know of love and how to love. And I am lucky in the friends I do have, and who have found me.
So ignoring the idea of waiting for ‘good days’, and focusing on the ‘good hours’, I spent five or six hours stamping and sending postcards. Another 35-45 to bring it somewhere between 6,300 and 6,400 in total for the postcard project. Ha ha. It was a good day.
6 hours ago