A New Old Life

My wife told me she wanted a divorce five months ago and now I am living alone in a beautiful little apartment here in Dartmouth.  I don’t have any friends left here, after twenty five years away.  But I am getting stuff done, finding my life again.  Where and when do I begin to tell this story?

There is a saying “If now now then when?”  I answer that by saying time isn’t important.  Now is now and later is now.  What was to come about five months ago actually was, even then.  Things will get done.  Everything is in it’s place.

I am.  I was.  I will be.  I want to say “In Glory!” because that’s the prayer.  “He Was. He Is. He Will Be.  In Beauty” or “Glory”, or however you want to translate it.  I’m not saying that I am God, of course.  But I am pretty sure that, I, at least, exist.  But I can’t even define what God is.  There is something which ties us all together, the Universe itself, and makes perceptions real, and It stretches from the infinitesimal to the infinite.  I’m not talking about some old guy on a cloud or some great alien watchmaker that sets the Universe in motion and then lets it go, as Newton might describe it.  Perhaps I am talking about some kernel of Something deep inside that makes us and everything else real.  Perhaps I believe more like Johann Kepler…  Even though Kepler was wrong he corrected himself, and I admire and approve of a commitment and faith where the Truth takes precedence over what you want to believe.  Even though it’s written down doesn’t mean it is right.  It takes belief to say, “Maybe not.”  And even then it’s all just models in the mind.

There’s a reciprocal act of Creation in the mind and in the Mind and in the Universe and beyond and there is Existence, from the infinitesimal to the infinite, whether we exist or not.   And all those things, and us tied in with it, are One.  And it is renewing itself constantly.

Somehow, these thoughts give me strength.

My wife told me she wanted a divorce between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, 2014, and on October 5th, the day after Yom Kippur I was on the plane headed for Canada.  My wife doesn’t know anything about the High Holidays, and I am not part of them, but on those days I was sure doing atonement and then I started a new life.

I had a nervous breakdown.  I was gone, cowering on the bed for days, unable to move, and then a zombie on the plane, unable to face any kind of human interaction.  And even now, five months later I think I have some pretty major trust issues with the rest of the human race.  Some things were permanently shattered inside me, I think.  Yes, I was suffering in Finland, had lost myself, but I had given up any hope of future happiness to try to make a family work in Finland.  My wife, the practical one, did the pragmatic thing.  And in the process, she broke me.

But there is no blame, not on my wife’s side and not on mine.  There is a child between us, who will go to school in Finland and live in Canada in the summer.  It is great to have two nationalities and the opportunity of two homes.  And both her parents are wonderful, just as she is, and all I do I do for her.

So I am here now, unpacking boxes and building shelves.  I am still sleeping in the living room, but that will change soon, once I have built my bed.  I will show pictures.  Give you a tour.

This was the living room when I got there. Not much but you can see a balcony in the distance. I have shelves to build and a life to take out of twenty five years storage.
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This is the bedroom. Space. I love space, but not too much because I hate vacuuming.
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After shelves are built my library moves in.

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And my daughter’s friends eagerly await her arrival on her new bureau. Apparently, even though my old friends are gone, I have made new friends. One donated this beautiful bureau.

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Life is good.   Always be happy.  It keeps darkness away.

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Peace and Love,
Paul

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2 thoughts on “A New Old Life

  1. Pingback: A New Old Life | Strange Island

  2. A new start can be an opportunity – you have certainly done a lot with your apartment already. Time has a way of organizing us. We cannot do everything at once, and we will never be able to do everything we think about, but time makes us choose “one thing at a time” and we get things done.
    I think about time a lot, ever since I got a diagnosis of Atrial Fibulation (irregular heart beat) as there are some things I want to get done before I fall off my perch. Limited time focuses one’s attention!

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