Moh. Tharwat 的个人资料حكاوي القهــــــــــــــ...照片日志列表更多  |  工具 帮助 |
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2006/7/13 aM i flYingThe low-pitched hum of the engines below me overwhelm even the sound of my own thoughts. I must write them to know them. Ears popping to their own drumbeat, sending a familiar seething stab through the side of my skull.
Cruising at 39,000 feet for 11 hours now – alone with my sleeping, newly-anorexic angel and my restless, gluttonous thoughts in the midst of a sliver of population laden with tiny high-pitched screams. Again. Once again. At a crossroads in what seems to be a mountainous string of crossroads. One after another – attached like prayer-beads. I ought to be benefiting from passing each one. Ought to be. There is NO proof of purchase, NO certificate of authenticity – except the next inhalation, the next exhalation, the next intersection. Standing there (or here), vision obscured by hope, breath stifled by experience, knowledge clouded by insecurities, I am expected to decide on a direction to take. Standing still means stagnating to death. The path that seems safest to traverse is dark, depressing, dead. The path of sunny roses is (obviously) strewn with thorns and insects – potential momentary irritations or painful consequences. Although I lead, I take no path alone. The responsibility wears heavy on my already-strained shoulders. There is no joy without risk. There is no excitement in safety. The balance lies somewhere between the obvious directions on the map. Now is the time to think outside the stale box. If only I could.
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May God help us ALL
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