Monday, 7 January 2013

At Times

I pan my vision over and around. I want to take in all I can. Life is so damn short and the cards she deals often come from a pack that is not always well shuffled. It’s not a case of poker though. There are no opponents. There is just me and the deck. I guess it is more what you give you get and what you get back is enough to drive you mad. At times.

At times I believe in Karma but that is not the same as what comes around goes around. It does though; it does go around only to come back to haunt and harrow you. The notion of Karma influencing how you are in the next life is beguiling. I sometimes feel I need to add more good Karma to outweigh my bad but I know that is an uphill struggle. At times.

At times. I feel the resolve of the Jesuit. It pulses through me with a conviction I find hard to fathom. Then I wake at four in the dirty dawn and I feel all I have drain into a crumpled paper cup that has been scrunched in someone’s fist. Daybreak can be like that: a new day brings a new life but before it does comes the pain of rebirth with the knowledge of self and knowing yourself is excrutiating. At times.

At times. I wander down dusty corridors looking at shelves stacked with books. In each book is the story of a life; a life lead and now dead. All the deeds of the individual are in the book recorded for posterity for the librarian to read but also for anyone half interested in what that life amounted to. Some lives are better than others, some make a greater story. At times.

At times. I play solitaire, placing one card down after another, digging around in that pack for cards to follow suits. The frustration of the game is balanced with the patience I must allow. Each time I flip a card I hope it is the one that will lead me on until I finally achieve the goal of having all the cards there on the table in front of me, all sitting in convenient rows, neat lines of tens, nines, eights and so on. It is a game that makes sense, it makes perfect sense. At times.

all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy.To view my books on Amazon/Kindle go here: -- For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?


Nessa said...

At times, I wish everything was easy and the same. At times, I'm so bored i could scream.

Russell Ragsdale said...

This sounds like a seesion of psychotherapy where we sit down with ourselves and ask: what's troubling you Russell? The inevitable answer is the same for us as it was for Jack Spicer in "Psychoanalysis: An Elegy" and we have the the same "poem that goes on for ever." You are very honest, my friend!

Russell Duffy said...

Nessa>>>I know what you mean. Doing nothing sounds great until you have nothing to do then the boredom rushes in.
Some years ago I had to take 'garden leave.' The idea sounded great but then I was told I had to work my graden leave out of an office. Ii sat for three months doing sweet FA. It tdrove me nuts!

Russell Duffy said...

Russell>>>Self psychotherapy perhaps!
Being honest is, I think, the only way to be about yourself as long as it doesn't slip into self pity.
I have to say that Jack Spicer is new to me. I shall check him out. Thanks for the input old friend.

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A Utility Fish Shed Blog

A Utility Fish Shed Blog