Ineffectuality Regardless.

Tending to my chickens is the principal thing in my morning routine.

See how they’re doing, refill their feed, change their water, and generally make sure everything is okay with them.

I do all I can to make sure they live in the best of conditions.

I do all I can.

And then I pray.

Prayer is important, very important – even more important than refilling feed and replacing the water in the drinking trough.

I pray for my chickens.

I pray that they stay alive, and I pray that they grow healthy and fat.

I pray that they live in good health, and that sickness be very far away from them.

And then I pray against antagonistic powers. Against powers oriented against the welfare of my chickens.

I pray that these powers fail. I pray that they falter. I pray that they die.

Yes. I pray that any metaphysical powers- any person in fact, that intends to stand in the way of my chickens’ wellbeing should die.

Prayer is important, prayer is very very important.

 

---

 

Two of my chickens died last week. I don’t know what caused it. I do not know.

I must be doing something wrong. Maybe I’m not praying enough. Maybe I’m not giving enough money to the church. Maybe. But I know it means I need to intensify my prayers. I need to pray more fervently.

Some of my neighbours do not believe in the power of prayer. Some of them do not even believe in God. Fools. Complete and utter fools. How will one not believe in God? How? I feel sorry for them. For them and their chickens.

There is actually not any empirical evidence that my prayers have any effect on the welfare of my chickens however. My chickens are not any fatter than those of my neighbours. They are not any more insulated from sudden deaths. My chickens die just as frequently and just as sporadically as others. There exists no evidence whatsoever of the efficacy of my prayers.

But all that does not matter. My prayers work, I know they do. I am sure they go somewhere and are answered by someone. I feel it. I know it. I am sure of it.

My non-praying neighbours are fools. Fools of the highest order. My staunch belief in the need for prayer is unimpeded by the absence of any empirical evidence to support it. How else am I to protect my chickens from antagonistic powers if not by prayer? In this dangerous world? Amidst all of the evil powers that exist?

Prayer is key.

I get up from bed.

First I go to feed my chickens. I replace the water in the drinking trough.

And then I pray.

I pray my heart out.

Time to feed the chickens.

I leave my bedroom.

 

 

 

Image Source: https://www.austinchronicle.com/food/2017-06-30/so-youre-thinking-of-keeping-chickens/

On Stoic Hearts and Scar Tissue.

I wonder what my heart looks like.

 

There in my chest, pumping- always pumping. Never for once stopping for air- never for once stopping to catch its breath.

— Pumping. Always pumping.

 

I wonder what my heart looks like.

 

Scarred. Definitely scarred. Very scarred.

Strange: The insulating protection offered my ribcage did absolutely nothing to shield my heart from emotional scarring. Absolutely nothing.

I hope the scars do not affect its pumping. I hope they do not restrict its movement or anything like that. Scar tissue might not stretch as much as normal tissue- could prevent the heart from expanding as much as is needed to adequately pump blood.

No wonder I get lightheaded at times. Not enough blood being pumped. Not enough blood being pumped at all.

 

I wonder what my heart looks like.

 

I wonder what it does with all of that pain from lost love- from love not just lost, but forcefully torn away. Jarringly detached.

My heart is definitely scarred. Definitely.

Hm, I just realised something. These scars are probably going to last forever. Till the end of my life at least. Wounds heal yes, but scars- scars are a different ball game entirely.

I’ll probably always experience this painful throbbing every once in a while. Probably always. Consequence of the scarring. Implications of scar tissue. 

 

Of love lost. Of smiles gone dark. Of little happiness bulbs conclusively detached from electricity.

 

I wonder what my heart looks like.

 

 

 

 

[ Image Credits: https://tinybuddha.com/blog/never-ashamed-scar-4-lessons-self-acceptance-resilience/ ]