Thought Picnic: In my cave of safety?

I wasted many things

“Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips…” [BibleHub Isaiah 6:5 (KJV)] These were the words of Isaiah the prophet as his inadequacies became evident in the realisation that he had seen God.

For one as I with many gifts unused and considerable potential unrealised, blessed with the grace and favour of fortune and opportunity that I have many times not appreciated, I find myself so literally undone by situation and circumstance, yet I should maintain a broader perspective.

A sorry story told

As a mere mortal with issues and vulnerabilities, feelings and imperfections that can stand out well beyond where you want expression, the vicissitudes of life can be quite impactful as you continually berate yourself of inadequacy and encourage yourself of possibility.

For a story tries to speak itself with volume that there was a time you could do this or another when you never had to think of that, facility and provision were present to do all that you desire and much more from that which you have acquired, but for the moment in which you reflect, you have nothing to deflect.

A longing for the hills

In the days of the seasonal chills,
As nothing is ringing from the tills,
You ingest with routine your nightly pills,
And wonder how to address the growing bills,
Whilst hoping you can dream away the ills.

Like the prophet, there is a humiliation of humility that strips you of the confidence that once betrayed your innate abilities, your voice is lost in the cacophony of the silence that envelopes you, the shell in which you find refuge is almost like you are caught in the helplessness of resignation, you want to lie down believe it is just a bad dream.

Come, come, come away

You cannot despair of the cycle of life, the turns that bring experience and lesson, for which knowledge of the past is not necessarily preparation for the present. How sometimes we could have seen the future better, but where would life’s excitement come from if you knew before it became known?

We all have our caves that little place that is hardly comfortable but generally safe, you can lick your wounds in secret, cry yourself to exhaustion in solitude, stir your spirit with some resolve and then rise to start the journey to where home and love abides. It takes time, time is the sting of realities ticking away like a clock, never really beginning to ever deeming to continue without an end.