The children are very excited. It is my birthday in two days. I am not so excited this year. Not because of ageing. I am not really bothered by getting older, but I had such a shocking birthday last year that I notice I am reluctant to put my toes in again. I usually have a huge party, as I did last year, but this time I am having dinner given by a friend at her house with invited guests. I am finding that much easier.
It is a year since my friend died, on the night of my birthday dinner. We had a candle lit for her all day in remembrance of a truly Divine Soul. The pain of loss has lessened, lessened a lot, but as I write now, and at times yesterday, it was as sharp as if it had just happened. She was around a lot yesterday, telling me how to do things, as usual, and harrassing me about the not so interested au pair. It was quite fun to hear her.
On a lighter note, the shop fitting crawls along. We are still so dependant on the shuttering, but it is happening, the deposit has been paid and the final measurements taken. Internal shutters. I have all manner of imaginings about what could happen to the outside, but I think it is mainly from too many films. Talking if which, I started a new book last night. The Religion. Three pages on I was close to being sick and spent most of the night really disturbed by the images that the book had conjured up. It was like watching the news or a Kevin Costner film. Gruesome, gratuitous and foul. I really felt that I had offended a deep part of myself by the small amount I read. How is that a pleasure? I kept having the most awful images appearing in my mind’s eye. I could stop them once they started, but it took while to stop them coming at all. I don’t get how anyone watches the news before bed, either. Seeing all that horror. Falling asleep with our worst nature spiralling out of control.
That paragraph started on a light note. How is that for spiralling out of control? My birthday book, India, 365 days had a great passage for today about how it is ourselves that cause all our suffering. It was well put. I asked my husband how he felt about that reality. I will not write his reply.