Of the Domus Mundi: I
An excerpt from Clive Barker's Sacrament.
"Well look that the pair of you," George said, his tone warming. "You look like a pair of drowned pups, you do." He patted his daughter's hand. "A mistake's a mistake, and you made one, but that's the end of it as far as your mom and I are concerned. As long as you learned your lesson. Now eat up. And give your dad a smile." Frannie tried. "Is that the best you can do?" Her father chuckled. "Well, you'll brighten up after a good night's sleep. Have you got a lot of homework?"
"A bit."
After witnessing the horrors of the world sometimes the only respite is the mundane. The routines of daily life keep us safe from the chaos swirling around us. We can fall on them as sanctuaries. Soft quietness in the boredom of the precievably necessary. There was a time when you once thought not finishing a reading assignment might be the end of all things. Till one day you didn't, and it wasn't. Your pet dying cast a shadow and a sorrow on you. But again, it wasn't the end. A family member dies. A lover leaves. A ghost comes calling. God reveals itself in the dying embers of the day between exhaustion and sleep. All is sensible until one day chaos comes calling and the foundations of ourselves become shaky and uncertain. Thus what we can not make sense of we cover with routines. We busy ourselves with tasks we can comprehend to obscure that which we can not.
No one can force a smile forever. Cracks and wrinkles form. And behind a false levity and pleasantry, gritted teeth grind to nubs and gums bleed. Hidden wounds never quite heal and broken bones don't quite knit. The limp becomes concealed but never gets corrected. And we limp on. Holding the pain at bay. Ignoring the trauma and learning to live with it until on day it simply isn't felt. It remains, but grown accustomed. And what was once our pain and horror, is now the face of our world. The structure, foundation, and ceiling of the Domus Mundi.
"Well look that the pair of you," George said, his tone warming. "You look like a pair of drowned pups, you do." He patted his daughter's hand. "A mistake's a mistake, and you made one, but that's the end of it as far as your mom and I are concerned. As long as you learned your lesson. Now eat up. And give your dad a smile." Frannie tried. "Is that the best you can do?" Her father chuckled. "Well, you'll brighten up after a good night's sleep. Have you got a lot of homework?"
"A bit."
After witnessing the horrors of the world sometimes the only respite is the mundane. The routines of daily life keep us safe from the chaos swirling around us. We can fall on them as sanctuaries. Soft quietness in the boredom of the precievably necessary. There was a time when you once thought not finishing a reading assignment might be the end of all things. Till one day you didn't, and it wasn't. Your pet dying cast a shadow and a sorrow on you. But again, it wasn't the end. A family member dies. A lover leaves. A ghost comes calling. God reveals itself in the dying embers of the day between exhaustion and sleep. All is sensible until one day chaos comes calling and the foundations of ourselves become shaky and uncertain. Thus what we can not make sense of we cover with routines. We busy ourselves with tasks we can comprehend to obscure that which we can not.
No one can force a smile forever. Cracks and wrinkles form. And behind a false levity and pleasantry, gritted teeth grind to nubs and gums bleed. Hidden wounds never quite heal and broken bones don't quite knit. The limp becomes concealed but never gets corrected. And we limp on. Holding the pain at bay. Ignoring the trauma and learning to live with it until on day it simply isn't felt. It remains, but grown accustomed. And what was once our pain and horror, is now the face of our world. The structure, foundation, and ceiling of the Domus Mundi.