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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460458" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>0019 An intrusive thought in the bathroom at Christmas</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">We control freaks like to feel<br>we have our thoughts in some sort<br>of order; though yes, we like to have<br>spontaneous feelings, it shows<br>that we are human (not just<br>control freaks, ha) - but we like to feel<br>we have those feelings, too, within<br>some sort of mental framework –</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Saint Paul stricken, on the road to Tarsus, <br>with a blinding epiphany<br>is good to read about – it can happen <br>to others, great – but, as the song goes, <br>but not for me…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It happened, with a corny total appropriateness, <br>on Christmas morning (I almost feel<br>I have to apologise for that…) : I’d overslept; <br>hadn’t even put the radio on, to work myself<br>gently into Christmas cheer; <br>the bath was running; and then</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I suddenly felt blest. <br>No. Knew myself blest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You’d have to know<br>the nervous, melancholic, depressive me<br>to know the inconvenient inappropriateness<br>of that ‘state of grace’ as some would say; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">my control freak brain couldn’t find a mental slot<br>where such thoughts belong; while registering<br>that many people would feel only<br>gratitude for that..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">but that was it: it had happened; <br>now I had it in my memory<br>for the rest of my life; I had to deal with it; and worse, <br>I knew that what I recognised<br>so inconveniently, as the bath filled up, <br>was something that had a future and a past, <br>and if true in this brief moment<br>then had been, would be, true for ever…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">* * *</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There’s a beautiful tradition<br>that while those who give<br>are blest, that those who receive their gift<br>are not blest until (rather like <br>‘pass the parcel’ which we play<br>sometimes on Christmas Day) <br>they pass the gift along<br>to someone else..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But this control freak thinks, <br>try to tell someone else<br>and you can finish up<br>not believing it yourself..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I guess I’ll have to try<br>writing a poem about it sometime<br>but without<br>trying to find some sorta<br>mental framework for it<br>etc.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460458" data-title="0019 An intrusive thought in the bathroom at Christmas de Michael Shepherd" data-description="We control freaks like to feel
we have our thoughts in some sort
of order; though yes, we like to have
spontaneous feelings, it shows
that we are human (not just
control freaks, ha) - but we like to feel
we have those feelings, too, within
some so..."></div>
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