Of Tigers and Feathers – Day 62

Cassiel (listening to Haya Band’s Silent Sky and Qinghai Lake 代青塔娜 – 寂靜的天空 – 青海湖)

Solitude is in every sweep of the hand that goes unnoticed, every word that falls unheeded, every gaze that goes unmet.
It is in every closed book, every misunderstanding, every quiet plea for help that is dismissed.

Solitude is when you cannot breathe in the midst of a crowd and your heart whispers softly that no one will notice if you just. let. go.
It is that soft smile when you turn and realize that you stand unmoored in a world of mirages and mist.

Cassiel. Angel of tears and solitude. Guardian of time and master of karma.

The one who listens, who bears you up in the midst of that solitude.
The quiet presence, succor in the midst of an ever spinning world.

Perhaps not the laugh in the darkness, but the gentle hand in the night.
Perhaps not the brilliance of the sun, but a lodestone to the stars.

Dusk feathered wings. Bronze mask of implacable mercy. Fate’s obsidian blade.
When you look back, who is reflected in those eyes of impossible blue?

I’m feeling very untethered today, as if I could simply open my hands and float away.

I had a very minor asthma attack yesterday. I’d taken a nap before class because I wasn’t feeling well and woken late. I had 20 minutes to get to class from bed to door and it usually takes about 20 minutes to walk to the school from my dorm.
I ran most of the way, dashing across a six lane street with three seconds showing on the pedestrian light.
By the time I reached the class building, black spots swam in my vision and I wanted to throw up and pass out, preferably in that order.
I couldn’t breathe smoothly for most of the class, swimming close to the edge of desperation.
Today, I woke up feeling beaten and bruised, probably in reaction to the attack and the aftermath. It took everything within me to pull myself out of bed. I still can’t take in a full breath and my chest aches. I feel warm, enough that I think I am going to have to go buy a thermometer and start recording how I feel and the corresponding temperatures.

There’s still homework to be done. Endless piles of work.

On days like this, I almost feel like it’s a blessing and a relief to be so loosely caught. All those I love – they are safely tethered. My death may devastate some, but I trust that they will be caught and kept secure in the end.

“To die will be an awfully big adventure”, after all.

I’m not feeling suicidal. Maybe depressed, I can’t tell, because it could be simply be lack of sufficient oxygen.
Mostly, I love life, but it can be such effort.
I’ve loved. I’ve seen things that touched and awed. I’ve laughed hard enough to gasp for breath.
I was speaking with Jane the other day, and I remember saying that I wanted to Do as a child was to make the world a better place, to bring happiness.
I might not have succeeded as much as I wanted, may not have borne up those I met the way I wanted to be supported, but I’d give myself a passing grade for effort.
If I open my hands, I think of flying, not falling.

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