But you know what, that isn't exactly true. I've been reading Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert (recommended by my old friend of the same name, Ms Vivian Tan) for the past few days. Just an ok book for me (what do you expect when the author had this whim to divide the story to suit the number of chapters, she wanted there to be 36 chapters for each of the 3 sections of the book, some sort of divine significance), but it did open my eyes a little more. Haven't finished it yet. Made me really want to go to Italy one day. Ashrams in India, not so much, but maybe. And I've already been to Bali in Indonesia, which didn't impress me all that much.
So while I was reading this book I suddenly recalled that once upon a time, I used to pray too. By pray I mean talk to God. This was a very long time ago, probably when I was back in primary school. I don't remember it all too clearly. Every night under the covers, before I went to sleep, I would clasp my hands and talk to God. It was probably to ask for something or the other. I seriously don't remember. And it wasn't to any particular God (even back then, I wasn't one for organised religion), it was just the one almighty God that was in charge of the whole universe.
Its funny to remember things like that after all these years. Because clearly that was one habit that didn't stick around for very long.
Been having a bit of a moody week. Not depressed moody, just not at peace moody. It may have been spending that week alone here in KL, going to the clinic in the day, coming back home at night to my cat, and reading George R.R. Martin's A Song for Lya and The Second Kind of Loneliness.
Shall just stop now and go to sleep as I need to wake up to go to the wards in the morning.
Hoping that everything will turn out alright this week. I wonder if I'll feel better if I pray about it.
2 comments:
Daddy's girl. ;-)
Its just an OK book for you? Its a WOW for me. Your life must be progressing well.
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