The Demented Puppy (4th December 2009)
The rain continues to fall in a constant haze of light rain, just light enough to be a ghostly drizzle but constant enough to leave a moist coat on all surfaces – stationary or moving. It has been like this for the last couple of days – who knows how many exactly – and it is starting to feel like we are under siege from the most unlikely of sources. The rain they say has been shy in this area for a long time, prompting some to cry out that this has been the worst drought we have had in many years. But this can surely no longer be the case as the heavens continue to leak, so badly they make me wonder if there is no place for plumbers in heaven. And as the gentle drizzle continues to bless us with its harshness I am warmed from the inside by a feeling of being found, a feeling of being acknowledged, a feeling of being in love.
As the rain falls the skies remain grey as pensioners’ hair, and as the ground soaks the moisture I am reminded of my own emotional state. I feel wet I feel soggy with raw emotions released by the most natural of forces, I feel like I am drowning in an ocean of love, and for once I am not afraid that I cannot swim. In many ways I am inchoate in the coils of love but in other ways I am an old servant matured through rigor, obsession and perseverance. These past few days, which have turned to weeks, where the rain has fallen unabashedly in a time of widespread thirst I am rediscovering a love that never went away during a time when faith is low.
Today I am not ashamed, like the rain, to confess the depth of my feelings, for they are my reality and I bask in them with gluttonous fervour. My ex of old, my lover indeed, my soul mate through this journey has been found again, our paths intertwining for another eternal dance. Our reunion has been strange in ways I cannot explain for while we are letting ourselves get lost in each other’s passion we are very much still guarded, hiding something else stronger behind a veil of logic. We have both become more sensitive and timid in our engagements, lest we become victims of our own blindness like once before, so long ago it seems.
I feel like a love struck puppy ailing from its own naive precociousness, tripping over my own intentions as I try to mask my giddiness. I cannot help but feel vulnerable when I am around her, to feel completely helpless to her beauty, her charm her irresistible appeal. I feel I could spend a million days appreciating her allure on each day, discovering something new, something more succulent, something to worship. As I lose myself once again to all that I love about her I feel a sense of freedom like a weight has been lifted like I no longer have to hide behind a mask. I feel a sense of purpose as I am being what I have been created to be and I feel alive after so long.
And even though we continue to hide from each other not sure whether this is really happening, not sure if this is not an illusion, we seem to be willing to let it happen. On days like this I am not gripped by the fear of not knowing, instead I am invigorated by the ability to risk it all again, that strength to remain religiously held in my convictions. For if I were to ever stop believing in love I would cease to exist just as surely as the planet would shrivel up and perish without the constancy of the rain. Whether she represents a reality or an ideal is not for me to decide. Whether she is ultimately good or bad for me is not for me to decide either, because at this stage I am just in awe of the things she makes me feel. It has been too long and this sick puppy is not ready to be medicated yet…