In Memoriam

Wednesday 7 March 2012

I got really sick last evening around dinner time. I went to my room and got into bed because I felt so cold as if I had a fever. I had a bad headache and I felt like I was going to throw up. I of course became very bitter, and I just wanted to be away from this place and be back home. What made it worse was when I got Bill's message saying that Osama Fahel committed suicide. I felt a bit of the same feelings when Jamal died. That fear, helplessness, and the question "Why?".

I don't know him that well. I have an image in my head of who he is, but i'm not sure it's the same person. That kid in youthgroup, who was awkward, and had lots of pimples on his face, and was learning to play drums, and he was loud and annoying when he played. I played with him a few times. He used to ask me to play with him. I think I talked to him a few times. I think the last time I saw him was when he called me and asked me to come play music at his sister's wedding. Maybe that was last summer. He also played drums with me. He was all dressed up, and he was a bit unsure of himself and he asked me if I thought that he had done a good job. He gave that impression, being unsure of himself, and a bit shy and awkward. What would lead a young man to kill himself? To take his own life? I don't understand it.Underneath the shell of shyness and awkwardness was a destructive force that led to his death. What could cause such a force to come into being? It crushes soul and spirit. What chance does life, does survival have in its presence? Is this force at work within me? Goodbye Osama. Tou Trar. Tou Trar.

مع السَلامة، يا أسامة.

ذهبتَ، و لا أعرف أين.

لن تعود.

لن تُساعد و لم تُساعد.

لن تُوجَد و لم تُوجَد.

فُقِدّتَ و فَقَدّتَ و لم تُفقَد.

لم تعرِف و لم تُعرَف.

لم تُحِب و لم تُحَب و لن تُحِب.

Prayer: 3 March 2012

God,

Please help me to return to a state of consciousness and discipline. Every time I open this notebook, I am challenge in such a way that leaves me running away. I am so distracted, so blind, so deteriorating, so careless, always losing sight of what is important, so proud, and conceited, so judgmental and full of prejudice.

Please help me find the way of life, the way to life. Help me return, rebuild, regrow the things that I left to die. I feel so sluggish, thick, like my mind has lost its potency, like my eyes cannot see the light, nor the beauty and splendor of the world. I feel that my heart is cold, empty, lifeless. It knows awe no longer and feels not passion, nor does it love. It is no longer humble, and truth is no longer my pursuit, nor my goal, and in its presence I cannot stand but hidden when I would rather have stood naked and ashamed so that your forgiveness and love and acceptance can cover me and keep me alive and warm.

I am not your man, I am not one who pursues you, nor one who loves you or what you have made. Life is mostly misery to my twisted thoughts. I cannot see things as they are. I cannot see myself as it is, as I am. I cannot see what you would have me be, and if I can I shrink from you and deny you and despise and question you and call you cruel and ruthless for ever causing me an ounce of pain. Therefore, knowing myself in need of something which I cannot exactly identify, a power, a strength that I need everyday, a love that I can fall back on to, I need your help, I need your help so I can help myself, so that I can enforce the things I learned in my time here, to always stop and confront myself and my thoughts and analyse their origins and refute those that are lies, to venture into the world to test myself and my presuppositions about who I am against the reality of the world and thus build a small slow base on which these two feet can stand. To love another person, to take interest in someone else, in their well being, in helping them, in sharing with them. In all these things I need your help, I need your reminders of their value. I need to see again their sanctity, and their value. I am not ready nor am I willing to give up all the things you would ask me to, all that you would ask me to hate, to leave, to dissociate from for the sake of knowing you, and being united with your son. I am not even what I want to be, I am no longer who I thought I was, nor have I ever been.

Please help me to see you in all things, in all moments, give meaning to my life, meaning that is not made up, meaning that penetrates all the clutter and shadow that surround my heart, soul, and mind, that reduces my paralyzing fears to nothing. I need you God. I do. I am enslaved to my thoughts and my body. I only care for me. I need you because of selfish desires and reasons, because of fears, because of cowardice, because of laziness, in twisted ways I need you. Thus it is not you that I need, it is an image of you drawn by me. It is not you that I desire, that I long for. I would run from you, because you are so good and great. You are full of light, full of life. How could I stand with you? Away from me God, away! The words of my mouth and the thoughts of my heart are but lies, deceit, and self deceit. But, return, do not leave my drowning. A part of me longs to live. A part buried underneath, hidden from the sun, its voice is weak, its presence is unfelt. I need your help, I need your help, I need your help. I need your strength. I need to feel better. I need to see the opportunity and grab at it.