Thursday, 14 February 2008

To Write Love On Her Arms

It might just be because it's half-past twelve in the morning, but I've got that feeling that I sometimes get. Like I'm standing in the middle of a giant jigsaw puzzle and I can actually feel the pieces clicking into place around me. In fact, I feel like I am a piece, getting maneuvered this way and that before sliding right where I'm meant to go just now.

Over the past two days I've kept bumping into this organisation called To Write Love On Her Arms. A group that helps people going through depression, addiction, self-harm and those affected by suicide. They're a "Christian" group, but not exclusively Christian. They say: "This is a project for all people. This is a project for broken people, and it is led by broken people."

This morning I woke up and logged onto YouTube like I often do. Wallofweird posted a video on the night of the 13th my time about that group. I'd actually read about them that very same night in a nonfiction book. I clicked through to their website and was impressed with them. Their idea haunted me all day - resonating with thoughts that I've been musing on (or should that be 'bothered by'?) for weeks.

I couldn't help myself and I returned to their website to find out more. I just had to know. I clicked on their journal/blog thing. They are coming to Australia for a speaking tour in a matter of days and are still (apparently) looking for places to speak in. They will be arriving on the Gold Coast in five days.

I passed this info along to my pastor considering he is more connected than I. It might be not enough notice for them to speak in my church but maybe he knows of somewhere? I'm not sure if anything will come of it but I just wanted to talk about it.

It seems so unlikely - doubt is creeping. There's nothing I can do to make this work. I don't even know what it is that is supposed to 'work'. I don't even know anything about suicide - only that it is cold and terrible. I'm just here, for some reason stumbling all over these people. They're talking like I've been thinking and there's nothing I can do.

I sometimes get like this in the wee hours. I have no idea why I'm telling you this on the internet. I could wake up tomorrow and wonder what the hell I was going on about. But maybe I won't. I feel compelled to post this just in case I wake up and still feel the same way.I feel harassed. I'm having a spiritual right here in front of everybody and I feel very silly.

It's at times like this I wonder whether I'm actually more awake at night than I am when I'm up and active during the day. Who knows where this will go?

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