Sunday, October 17, 2010

Chronicles of Iridescence, Chapter 85: Second Fiddle

What does it feel like to always be '2nd in running' or '3rd in running' or even '1685252nd in running'?

I thought I knew all about it after playing second fiddle for many different situations, and the moment where Man starts to feel he knows enough....

....He actually doesn't.

Being second fiddle sucks. Period.

But to be the first, one probably needs time and effort and energy.

And its fine for certain things, such as positions and achievements, but for the more 'intangible' stuff, this gets pretty difficult. You need to account for personal circumstances, circumstances of other people involved, unresolved issues, obstacles, environment....A whole mess of stuff.

Go figure what I'm talking about. You'll get it, somehow....As long as you are a human, you will definitely get it somehow, someday.

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Sometimes it amazes me how the King still uses me.

While no one is perfect, it feels as though there are some that are "more imperfect" than others. Other people who don't know or who don't bother to want to know/care would judge them for who they are on the surface, for how they behave (Yes, action can be a manifestation of the inner heart, but NOT ALL THE TIME, DAMMIT).

How are they more "imperfect"? Just a few simple examples.

-Being sensitive to one's own needs, but insensitive to others.
-Saying one thing and doing another.
- Expecting others to compromise for their comfort, but not that willing to compromise for others.
-Unable to hold in their emotions "normally", resulting in "deviant" behaviour.
-Doing unto others what one would NOT like to be done onto them - even things they heavily criticise and despise.

Obviously, some of these imperfections belong to me.

Fallen so many times, picked myself up so many times, and fell again, and stood up.

The cycle goes on, and sometimes I have one such blasphemous thought (for all you religious people, scream your head off at me if you want):

"God, you must be crazy."


And I'm thinking He really is. He's mad. How can He be so willing to use a wreck? Someone so imperfect, that even a boy or girl 5-6 years his junior would prove to be even better suited for the position or for the responsibilities he has?

Why would He even give visions and dreams that drove this man so much, until he ran headlong into seemingly indomitable steel walls? Aren't there more spiritually strong people? People without personality defects or a unresolved monster of the past still lurking in the heart or someone without flaws that even the youngest member who could make his own decisions didn't have?


But if God is crazy, then so am I.


I'm crazy to keep believing. I'm crazy to keep trying to build relationships with people. I'm crazy for even thinking about pursuing dreams or hopes or a-my desires (good ones, mind you). I'm crazy for even slamming against the damn walls time and again, knowing that I'll get hurt.

I'm crazy time and again for asking for strength and wisdom, knowing what follows would be trial after trial after trial that, on first look, serve to do nothing but break me down into a pathetic, tiny sobbing wreck wracked with guilt and shame and anguish and sorrow.

But here I am.

Bloodied, battered, bruised, injured. Thrown about like a rag doll and felt as though I had been drawn and nearly quartered.

But still alive. Still standing up after every difficult time. Sometimes a little more quicker, sometimes a little more slowly. Sometimes having a portion of my soul gouged out, having a festering wound that leaves more than just a scar.

But for two things, I would have been another set of bones in the valley.

I....was obviously still alive.


And God....was obviously still crazy.


In a very, very heartwarming way.


And I pray, He will continue to be crazy in that way.

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