Time and Time Again

I've an hour and a half before prayer meeting. I'd intended to go to one coffee place but their AC was down, so went to an alternative one. I find I've got minimal interest in the Internet.

Had to cut back on the Facebook "interaction" as there was none really and I was creating a problem for myself in seeking to actually have some, of a sort. A bizarre circumstance in that my sister's posts (she has refused to be a "friend") are mingling and that makes me feel awfully weird since we are estranged, and worse when she announces a "family get-together" to which I'm not invited. Used to that but to have it publicised was a bit much for me. Had to pare those contacts such that I don't have to be exposed to that again.

Also removed contact with my imaginary (not really, there was some exchange) friend, a woman with whom I'd become smitten. That she's half my age and disinclined seemed to heighten a sense a challenge... a totally unrealistic scenario. I've gotten lonely and discount these facts in some delusion, magically thinking we might get along simply as real friends. Just setting myself up for disappointment... it's all too cliche.

Have had my medication doubled and am quite lethargic.
Please God this all works out, that I get well and working again.

Got to talking with a woman at church; all my problems impede.
Wish we could go on and make real friends. Don't think so.

Watch and Pray

Waited for her to pick up her veggies.
Came and went in a breeze.

Had this feeling of waiting at a water hole.
Only she pounced. Then was gone.

Still in love, but more easy, less forlorn.
Makes me feel really, really old.

She's been very kind. I miss her.
I told her. It cannot be. Solitary for me.

Check

The last post was off the wall.
I'm so totally bereft of real friends.
Making it up as I go along?
Yes, I am. Sustaining somehow.

See psychiatrist again tomorrow.

Break that Chain

Teacher startled me.

Said she needed to clue me in about something.

Before the Bible study commenced. Paranoia indeed.

Was just the scheduling of a nursing home visit.

She's another friend. Don't forget.

Galeta came up... need confirmation.

Got it after a mope and a wiz. The sack.

Got me going. Remembered OK. Something.

Have got to quit smoking.

Lungs a mess. BP outrageous.

Head up arse all the time.

Would do it for another friend.

Passed along to her, surreptitiously, after much angst.

She hit the nail on the head, she did... obsessing, I was.

"Tone it down." She's right; love her to death?

Later for the rampage, we'll take it peacefully.

Yet another friend goes all Tao...

The quieter you become,
the more you are able to hear.

Could not retort, Friend, requiring not another incident.

I heard a voice which said,
"There is one, even Christ Jesus,
that can speak to thy condition,"
and when I heard it, my heart did leap for joy.

Teacher, upon Paul's assurances,

brought us round to John 14.
Promised to read it later.

Have to quit smoking.

Peace I leave with you;
My peace I give to you;
not as the world gives do I give to you.
Do not let your heart be troubled,
nor let it be fearful.

Off Grid

Of all things, watch battery goes down; time slowed - relatively.
Was late to the nursing home but did get to sing from old hymnal.
Embarrassed being so disorganized. Been downright loony lately.
Obligatory full moon shot - felt so puny over weekend thinking of her.

Not that there's anything wrong with it.

Another woman reassures me:

Trust in the LORD with all your heart
and do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge Him,
and He will make your paths straight.

Running Late

Cool of the morning and ultramarine, the Palo Verde has survived.
Presents an iterated function I gather; fun with fractals.
Not so dysfunctional after all, eh? Do the math? Show your work!
Meanwhile, late for Bible study, caught up in the real world.

Got there and Dawn was waiting again.
Told her I was held up processing; was I ever.
Will have to get to Fibonacci later still, if ever.

Hairs on heads numbered too.

Guest preacher, a medical missionary from Thailand, spoke on Acts 17:26-27. Another aspect of divine determination. God is there; seek Him; Jesus said you will find Him. Indeed. I do believe this but am too much of a pagan to live it.

O God, you are my God,
earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you,
my body longs for you,
in a dry and weary land
where there is no water.

I have seen you in the sanctuary
and beheld your power and your glory.
Because your love is better than life,
my lips will glorify you.
I will praise you as long as I live,
and in your name I will lift up my hands.

My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods;
with singing lips my mouth will praise you.
On my bed I remember you;
I think of you through the watches of the night.
Because you are my help,
I sing in the shadow of your wings.

My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me.
They who seek my life will be destroyed;
they will go down to the depths of the earth.
They will be given over to the sword
and become food for jackals.

But the king will rejoice in God;
all who swear by God’s name will praise him,
while the mouths of liars will be silenced.

Psalm 63. And he mentioned Hosea.
But there was a problem.

The doctor grieved that people who did not know God were going to hell. He was speaking of the Thai people, nominal Buddhists for whom there is no "God" and much ignorance even with regard to Siddhartha. I couldn't see that, preferring to think that those who do more exactly know of Jehovah and Jesus and reject out of hand are those spoken of in such as Luke 16:19-31. Just sort of stuck with the contention.

Been in a coffee place all afternoon thinking about that and all the stories in the papers. No one to talk about them with. Stunning stultification! But par for the course; someone in mind.

Will be going on a visit to a nursing home in a while.
What can I do? What can I do? What can I do?
Well, I won't be late. I can read. I can sing. I will be there.

Itinerary

Ah... somewhere to go... for free!

Sailing to Byzantium

I
That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.

II
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.

III
O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.

IV
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.