seraphim & cherubim

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I am no expert, but these represent to me the two highest orders of angels in traditional Christian angelology – probably inherited from ancient Middle Eastern celestial mythology? Anyway, they are stuck in my mind like little neon post-it notes today.

In the almost ridiculously ironic tapestry of juxtapositions that is my life now, I am surrounded by angels of myriad manifestations.

The educated and knowledgeable eccentric homeless gentleman friend who helped me furnish my previous home with items collected from the neighbourhood dumpings, the many wonderful friends who have come into my life and lent more than a hand in myriad ways to prod me along the uphill path of my incredible journey of Selfness and Otherness, and my beautiful Angel, Lucy. I have not ceased to contemplate these while enwrapped in a cloak of awe and sometimes even stupefaction, the latter just like delightful coloured bouncing pompoms and tassels at the edges of Awe’s luscious fabric.

This Christmas, I was once again reminded, within a conventional setting, how very unusually blessed I am.

New friends, old friends, more social connecting that I would have wanted but which I nevertheless thoroughly enjoyed, and many thoughtful and sweet gifts received, most unexpected and definitely undeserved in my mind. What stands out, though, like a curious giraffe grinning over the top of the trees, is a special gift kit from someone I do not know and have never met: a doggy-cracker for Lucy and a traditional pudding for me. A friend of a friend’s, who, I was told, knows about me and Lucy vicariously through my friend’s little retold fables and parables of my Bunnyhopscotch world.

Life has been a far greater struggle than I have ever known. Yet, the ironic twist to this is that I am happier and more fulfilled and driven than I have ever been. Is the former the price to pay for the latter? I have no idea at all. Another dichotomous trajectory: while I must admit that the struggle with fear and anxiety is intense, and there are times I feel like throwing in the towel, or roller coaster lapses into abject misery and self pity, the overpowering pervading feeling is still a sense of wonderment that I have done nothing to deserve so much goodness, yet here I am, perusing from a kaleidoscopic smorgasbord of gastronomic delights.

With a much appreciated extension of another 6 months to my three year scholarship, I foresee a very hectic and frenetic year ahead. We are back in our beloved neighbourhood, in the best space I have lived in since moving to Sydney, and the cheapest rental too. My brain is once again busily engaged in creative neuron firing, I can feel the popping, wriggling and dancing worms and literally hear the symphonic crackle, pop and hiss, but the after math of 2014 still lingers like wet, damp, rotten fishy tentacles around my aching neuropathic ankles (literally, there is physical pain), pulling me back from the level of active achievement that my brain demands and my psyche longs for.

Nevertheless, the mantra here remains Go, Bunny, Go – keep on keeping on. Something I learned from yet another faithful friend and supporter of mine, someone who has been a bulwark of strength in more than one way to me through some of my most difficult years.

Clemency. Gratitude. Awe.

2015, here we come! My Angel Lucy, my friends near, far and even those I have yet to meet, and my spunky Bunniness. Tally Ho!

And thank you, kind stranger, you who resides in my mind’s sensory space in a red-turquoise multicoloured silk Art Nouveau Bohemian inspired upholstered chair set at an angle in the far left corner of the expansive marble floored hall, for your Christmas gift to Lucy and me.

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