although death can be a relief: diary notes

although death can be a relief, and although i am living with my dying:
there is the rain outside and a low grey sky, the light is not enough, pain inside,
in the body and in the soul.
This pain does not exist this way at all,
we cannot separate body and soul, we are one, and i accept the truth of being one.
It is just pain.

Thought does not help, it merely analyses the past, it cannot give the healing and
comfort of touch and love. Thought assists to find through the Bardo: it tells me that i went through many stages of them, interim states, and that i will persist through now and today even if unhappy.
This is all thought can do.

The rain keeps coming, and still i feel like a dry twig cracking at the sound of my name,
splintering when written words reach me, and words addressed to me come like strange puppets on strings moving sullenly through a thick and woolly heaviness.
this dense dark surrounds me like a cloud.

I look at myself , and at this moment i feel helpless. I have to accept.

And there comes the memory of this cloud, and i have been walking
with it since childhood, sometimes more aware of it, sometimes less.
it is filled with violation, with a dreaming child woken by screams,
the experiences of being filled with early bitterness and fear and pain, the frightened moments in the shadow of  chairs and tables, the near to unbearable lack of love and tenderness, the history of alienation and self-doubt, the genesis of individuation and growing into a maimed  adult.

It is a tale of books and people encountered and of a life in shreds, passing by, as if it was not mine.

And all the badness i had to see and all the kindness i could find move me nearly the same way, just now, from afar. i let it pass and still, i remain enclosed like in a shell.

There is a vision of having found back into my soul filling it with light, but it is also a knowing and a feeling that my light may not be enough for the span of my life and for days like this.

Now i listen to the birds, i can hear them sing as the noise of the rain is duller now.
i let my heart grow out of me and open my eyes and ears.

I cannot escape my cloud, i have to leave it be. but i don't have to feed it darkness.
Bonjour.