There is no such experience like laying in bed for hours, unable to sleep, unable to cease one’s mind from running toward unknown borders. And then, to finally relent and take up one’s pen and paper (or rather, MacBook Pro) and have all inspiration flee.
I’m sure there’s a line about crappy apothecaries in there somewhere ….
Although I cannot sleep because I cnnot breathe, my mind ponders many things, most of which pre-date any record of my family that i’m aware of by centures. I mean, dude, I get that Henry VIII was a devout beliver (which at that time meant Catholic), but he basically formed the modern-day Protestant church because he wanted a divorce. All the anti-Catholic vitrol I’ve heard all my life means nothing, frankly. No one religious sect is above another.
I want the God who made me and knew me in my mother’s womb. I want the God who showered men — mere lustful, jealous, insecure men — with blessings beyond what they deserved. I want the God who spoke to Mary, Elizabeth, and Mary, and who convinced them that God was in their midst, embodied in Jesus. I really wish I KNEW some of the more ethereal details of existence.
I’m having some internal struggles in these weeks (obviously), but I really WANT to know … I hope these thoughts and desires give me motivation and inspiration.