Sunday 7 March 2021

Stealing Time

I've been thinking a lot about resurrection these last few years.  Rebirth.  What it means to perish and come again.  It's always the ones who love us that bring us back, isn't it?  The dead need a reason to return, and the wounded a reason to heal.  We need emotional warmth, connection and contact.  Even at a distance our souls are crying out for meaning.  For mystery, magic and song.  The living poetry of life at its fullest.  I'm still staggered and humbled by the things we do for our loved ones.  The lengths we'll go to savour a precious moment or protect a sacred experience.  Stealing back our joy and purpose from the dark.  We know these are the things that truly matter in the end.  Things of real value.  Painfully temporary and yet somehow transcendent.  The world is so full of tragedy, isn't it?  Sometimes I question if faith is really enough for those sweet souls who crave respite from such tragedies.  Like so many of us I know exactly how it feels to be spiritually lost.  I also know what it means to be violated, dehumanized.  I've felt that kind of despair before.  And yet I've lived a charmed life.  I was never a child torn by war or genocide.  I have family and friends who truly love me.  But there are times when faith can feel like a fiction.  Something to stave off the insanity that comes with recognising our own insignificance.  Our fleeting place in a cold, mechanical universe.  But I don't believe in that empty nihilism.  An ugly lie passing itself off as empirical truth.  I've never believed any of that, even at my lowest.  The way good people suffer is horrifying to be sure.  But that doesn't negate the existence of Light, or meaning, or a higher order of things.  I treasure our ability to steal back our stories no matter the odds.  It’s like being granted wings.  Man is closest to an angel when he loves.  When he is moved by mysteries and human connections.  God is Love, in my experience.  In fact, it's the only real truth that has stood the test of time.  Those moments when I'm exhausted and alone, desperate for a miracle.  And then someone with the courage to be kind reaches out to me, teaching me about faith again.  Restoring my heart.  I think that's what it really means to be reborn.  It means to be cared for, and to care.  I hope I can continue paying that kindness forward to all those who need it.  Those who are searching as I have often searched.  But right now I just want to express my gratitude.  From the bottom of my heart.  Not as an angel, or even as a poet.  Just a man.  Thank you, my friends.  For every affection and thoughtful gesture.  You help me remain brave even when I feel like I have no courage left.  Who I am, and who I strive to be.  Without you I would never have been able to face my demons, heal my wounds, or stand these tests of time.

Stealing Time from Raj Sisodia on Vimeo.


  1. Well said, mate.

    Hope to see you again sometime.

    1. Thank you kindly, Cat. I hope so too. Be well :)