Rhubarb, rhubarb ….

I wander, murmur and mutter my way round my domicile. Although I am well aware that there is no other person here, to listen, I continue to utter these nonsensical phrases; the mutterings are not even directed to myself! [Random vocalizings –  pure aseity].

 

Occasionally, a recognizable word enters the vocabulary of utterances catching me unawares. Do these utterances ease the discomfort or, are they quite simply a kind of affirmation of current aches and pains?

 

At times it almost feels like some kind of mystical ceremony which enables me to cope with my daily lot, at other times it seems nothing more than an incantatory wallowing in self-pity.

 

Self-pity is not really my game; I am generally more likely to give thanks for the privileged position in which I find myself. I was fortunate enough to discover my true soul mate in the second half-century of my being, I have no worries about whether I will have a roof over my head and food in my belly on any day and, most importantly I am loved (and able to love in return) by my friends and family. But still, as each acute twinge bolts through my nervous system, these obscure utterances issue forth. Perhaps the mouthing of these sometimes wordless phrases gives me a sense of doing something, perhaps it’s a kind of prayer, an aberrant variant glossolalia!

 

I ache, therefore I mutter, therefore I am! (Or should that be, I am ached, I am muttered, therefore something is).

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One Response to Rhubarb, rhubarb ….

  1. Bittersweet on-the-hill. says:

    Hello Malcolm…..
    I see Brother Pain has visited in the night.  Perhaps some incantations for Little Brother Pain to visit and relieve Brother Pain of his exhausting visit. He has been working far too hard and definitely needs a well deserved rest!
     
    Rhubarb….rhubard…..reminders of spring to come.  Rhubard and strawberry pie did you say. I\’ll join you in the kitchen for a slice and a cup of tea. The seed and flower catalogues have arrived and while we have had little of winter to date, I am now thinking spring. And i am sure much the same for you.  I can hardly wait for you to start talking of your fish pond and all the life that abounds.
     
    Be well dear Malcolm….be well and give Helen my best wishes.    Bittersweet caught between winter and spring.
     
     

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