Many times I thought the fire in my breast had gone out only to discover unawares that there was more than just a spark, that there was actually a fully hot core to my spirit. There were other times that I knew for sure that the fire was hot, and yet I despaired of reawakening it. It never seems to do any good to let it become fierce. It can become very fierce and bright and hot, and it seems that it is only me that ever catches fire. Contagion does not seem to be in its nature, or I am not blowing sparks in the right direction.
It was in those other times when I recognized the spirit was struggling with its chains that I chose to try to ignore it by drowning myself in meaningless games and pastimes. Isn’t that right, Armelinda? But how would you have ever known? When did you ever look beyond your own selfish, neurotic worldview to try to glimpse anything, let alone a spirit, struggling inside me? When indeed? I miss you, you fool.
I decided to quit trying. To just shut up and deal with the deteriorating facts of my crumbling health and unwelcome emotional state, would not be lovely, but would at least be a minimum of what I should be expected to try to tolerate. You might think that, but noooooo. You would be pretty fucking wrong. I know because I thought that and as it turns out I was exactly fucking wrong.
But it threatens to drive me crazy. And I don’t mean the kind of crazy that your children can make you by refusing to shut the refrigerator door or the kind of crazy that men drive women to by refusing to put the toilet seat back down. No. I mean the kind of crazy that sends you into the streets to talk to fire hydrants. The kind of crazy that makes you want to call fire from heaven. This kind of crazy I don’t need. I’m full up enough as it is.
So here I am with it and the question is what am I going to do with or about it?
The answer is, I’m going to blow on the embers. Then I’m going to dump the white-burring coals into something extremely flammable and let the fire burst forth and pray for an inferno. I hope some are caught up in it, but past experience is not a good indicator. Nevertheless, my God, if it catches others ablaze, then may the devil take the hindmost.
I give up giving up. More on this later. For now, I’m signing out.
Normally in this spot I would insert “Thank you for your support,” but that seems oddly inappropriate for the subject matter. Instead, I will just say, “Wear asbestos underwear.”