Yesterday as I was walking down the road, a man came over to me, related to me as if he were an uncle that was always there yet pays no blood relation to me, was particularly ossified and came over and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. As if he bathed in it, the smell of strong illegal whiskey surrounded him, something we aren’t quite unfamiliar with. The ocean waves washed over the shore and the salt air blew in, filtering out the inebriation. I talked to him for a bit and he flicked a few rocks over the hill, frightening a chorus of birds, laughed, and walked back to his house. I soon figured it out: this was purely symbolic.
Of course the act wasn’t random, why today was I getting a kiss on the cheek from a man who usually didn’t go in ten inches of your personal space let alone grab on to you?
As he was yet speaking, behold a multitude; and he that was called Judas, one of the twelve, went before them, and drew near to Jesus, for to kiss him. And Jesus said to him: Judas, dost thou betray the Son of man with a kiss?
The passage above is from the gospel of St Luke, of the twenty second chapter. I’m not, most certainly, the Son of Man, nor a saint, nor any pious subject of the devoted author’s pen. But why did this happen to me just days after a great slap in the face from nature was given to me? Last weekend proved difficult to me, and it really broke me down emotionally. Yesterday, my closest friend also fell asleep at the wheel and drove into a hill by the post office, and yet is afraid to still drive. An ongoing conflict is still advancing here in my own house, of which my part is minor but I’m caught in the middle of. Seldom comes the peace I’ve been so bloody used to. Was that the betrayal? Or was that God giving me, as he does to each one of us, a cross to bear? Or is it, on the other hand, myself going crackers!? It feels as if the world looked at me and said “HA! You idjit! Enough of the foolish happiness, to Hell you go!” then twisted itself out of proportion.
Maybe I am just losing it.