I have totally abandoned all things technological and literary in the past few days as I have been struggling with the idea of being home and unemployed. I know this is the story of many people of my age as my generation are struggling with the reality of graduating from University and really being qualified to do nothing. Having being employed for the past two years or so I think this transition from useful to useless has been particularly difficult.
Yesterday after a quiet Halloween night in gossiping and baking, I had a rather frank conversation with one of my best friends in Mexico, a straight talking, sensible yet adventurous girl who has an excellent head on her shoulders and tells you what you need to hear, not what you need to hear. This conversation lifted my spirits and made me realise what I have been afraid to admit, perhaps I am home but feel as though home is no longer just that, home. I had created my own home just J and I and suddenly I am under my mother's roof living in a world which I had left behind.
After this conversation as I walked past a beautiful Cathedral in the middle of the city I decided to enter. Anybody who knows me will realise that the thought of me setting foot inside a church is enough to make the heavens scream, as I am a total non-believer. However, having said that, I have always found churches to be beautiful and serene places, a safe haven in a crazy world, it is almost as if it offers you shelter from everything which is happening around you as the silence embraces you.
I entered the cathedral and looked around at the devoted few who were praying rosaries or just praying out of their necessity to feel close to something. Seeing all these people and feeling the atmosphere of the church around me with the added element of the absolute silence, I suddenly began to feel emotional and I really cannot explain why.
I walked slowly and silently to the candles, candles which had been ignited by the hopes of different people. These candles are so weighed down with symbolism that their light seems to penetrate all of your feelings and have a mesmerising effect on you. I suddenly found myself reaching for one of those little white candles and lighting it with tears in my eyes. I stood for a couple of minutes and watched as the flame of the candle gathered momentum and was eventually lighting, fuelled by my hopes and my needs. I began to think about so many things as a traffic jam formed in my mind. The thoughts whirled, firstly memories of lighting candles for special causes with my Gran, secondly going to church with my Grandfather (RIP) and then a whole slew of feelings and thoughts relating to myself, to J, and to our situation and how much I am longing for it to get better. I found myself drawn into the flame as it hypnotised me.
I finally managed to break the spell and wander back out into the city, onto the streets so full of noise, of people and so many other things.
I felt relieved leaving the Church as I felt that I had now exhausted all possibilities, I had entered a place of worship to seek help from a Church which openly condemns my lifestyle, but never the less those few minuets of clarity were so comforting and in that moment all I had were my hopes and expectations and I was me, by myself with my flickering light. For those couple of minutes I was not being judged or watched or talked about or observed. I was just me with a handful of hopes in my pockets and a bright hopeful light in the middle of a big city.
DM
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