Innerdialects

_{What do for leisure? I don’t have it Sir. Or maybe I just use another name for it…}

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Today I know this Blogging thing is an Emotion! I’m too old to lie here just lying. 10 pm we get home, from St. jericwpdhes street, Doc’s needle was the size of a tree trunk yesterday, no exaggeration.

Next they say never mind, ok just a bit to be tweaked here and there, eat this, don’t eat that. And I must catch up with them after 3 strips of meds costing me Rs. 1996543%66889, 01paisa. (Totally exaggerated).

I’m grateful, a little tired and happy to sit here and become a piece of me again. It is near midnight this side of the moon. I’m telling you I hear a kookaburra laugh. We never had those here. My friend Ghozi asks why everyone’s worrying about politics. Dumb Ghozi. But I envy her innocence. See when I write here, unselfconsciously, like this, I appreciate Ghozi. Even the nurse with needle. Here one appreciates gentleness, innocence, all in contrast with the worlds out there teetering at each other;

we’ve gone and misunderstood some of our finest moments. Ghozi doesn’t. She sits in a chair facing the sky and writes to it. God and she knows what she writes. I’m certain she has a blog just doesn’t tell me. There, I let out my sweet suspicion, like a warm chimney in a silver sky. She blogs, else she can’t look this happy. She has a knee surgery gone wrong, and she’s sweet.

That’s why I imagine she has a Blog. These things do these things to you-

if you blog you will understand. If you’ve had a tough week but got here anyway and experience being all comforted by Grace, you’ll know. You mayn’t be squeaky new, your eyes blink, your ears aren’t what they used to be at 12. Tomorrow 9 am you’re getting another email from Lab-(for Ghozi). She’s bruising again-

you should worry, but no, you’re resting your jaw in the Hem of Heaven, with that silly kookaburra and friend Ghozi’s innocence.

It is chilly and you should get a wrap but you want to type-in a mushy thank you Note to the One Who got you this far. You want to write a power poem but all you get is a liquid prayer spelt Gratitude.

Gratitude for Him who loves us so hard we can’t believe it, we’d rather think on about it. Gratitude that we’re reading each other, in a space as wide as the palm of my hand but its congregated with 7 billion-

1/1000000th of that number may spin past this post, but even one reads it, isn’t that a miracle? I’m not just saying anything – these are those kind of days you’re not saying a thing to be heard-

You’re saying it to be said. If you’re heard, just go swing for joy from the window panes of your soul. It breaks and heals the region of heart, to know that though we are all this divided and cautious of each other these days, it helps to know there are still those who feel feelings, and write with emotions that can bless another.

I should po. I mean Go. Sleep lashes my eyes. She’ll braid them and I won’t be able to find my pillow. Nj too is unwinding. He unwinds with a brisk walk between our wildplants in balcony 1, and terrace with sliver moon. Sometimes I think he’s like Ghozi. They both share that brave compassion for all and themselves too. I watch them and know God made us creatures great and small, bright or not beautiful, yes not all days are beautiful, yet, in a moment like this, here, I experience a courtesy for the Living. A tender kind of tough –

blogging is an Emotion that makes me feel sweet, makes for a person being part of Creation, the process not stopping with Adam and Eve but going on and on, among us each. The Creator never stopped. That’s how you got here. Me too.

Thankyou for reading till here. I wish you rest, and joy and sunshine even if its cloudy, if it is. There’s always the Son & I must say Blogging makes me so love God. There must be an intrinsic plan because He always blazes thru’ my Posts, yes. He’s the Light – like the silence of the sun.

Catch up later. If you understand my blog-emotion-with-no-name*, I’m impressed. (Searched and can’t find a suitable label to it*),

wishing you Jesus,

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