For the last couple of months I’ve been attempting to help a friend who has been in dark night of the soul for a long time. I attempted even when I knew that, in a way, no one ever helped anyone except, maybe, by holding on. People are complicated creatures. The crisis reached a turning point (funny how that always happens) and he ended up having to contend with himself. The thing is, he is one of the luckiest people on the planet and he didn’t have to contend for long. Just when he let go of an opportunity (which he was right to do), the very opportunity he wanted fell into his lap. He’s a relentlessly fortunate person, so much so that often he can’t even see it.
My work here is done. Very very very done. Dumb as I feel for ever attempting, I also think humanity would be a lot less human if people didn’t try.
But I’m worn out. I woke up this morning at 4 and couldn’t go back to sleep which, for me, is unusual. I just wanted a cup of coffee. I didn’t want anything else from life at that point. I tried going back to sleep, but no luck. It was like a big cup of hot coffee was drifting along, just out of reach. So here I am, a couple hours earlier than usual, drinking the coffee (yum), pondering whether it would be OK to have another one, but, usually the second one isn’t as good as the first and just leaves me kind of nervous and weird.
It looks like the sun is about to rise.
In other news, Bear and I headed out for a saunter late yesterday morning. It was lovely.