Leonard could tell that I was upset at yesterday’s sitting. We were
putting the finishing touches to our latest portrait (which now has the title
'Muse Cornered by Books') so that we can make a start on the painting that he
described in his controversial last postcard and he was constantly fiddling
with my clothing, tucking my hair behind my ears and making a number of
adjustments to my positioning throughout the afternoon. Either he couldn't quite
find the correct position from which to continue or it was his awkward attempt
at making human contact in order to reassure me. He commented, in a
deliberately offhand manner and without breaking concentration from his canvas,
that I looked tired and I told him that I am experiencing difficulty sleeping
at night. Luke was present when I made this remark and Luke knows full well why
I am not getting any sleep. Although Luke is making admirable efforts to defend
me from my night terrors, he has seen the marks on my body and he knows that I
am suffering (these marks are smaller than the ones that I am accustomed to and
they take much longer to heal, which means that finding suitably concealing
clothing in this hot weather is proving to be an absolute nightmare).
Leonard considered my admission of insomnia to be some kind of challenge
and he dashed off into the kitchen to cram a huge amount of herbal teabags into
a Tupperware container for me to take home (predominantly camomile and valerian
from what I can tell, but also a fair amount of home-made Melissa Tea). He then
hurried back into the workroom, plugged in the hi-fi system and skipped through
a cassette tape to find a chant called ‘Te Lucis Ante Terminum’ which he recommended as particularly useful ‘to
help one to drift off to sleep when the mind is racing with fears and fanciful
ideas'. The melody of the chant was very beautiful and I found the words to be
particularly comforting. In fact Leonard suggested that I recite the words to
myself each night before going to bed and he dictated them to me so that I
could copy them into my notebook.
When I came to leave the house at the end of the afternoon, Luke stopped
me by the front door and he gave me a long, reassuring hug. We held each other
silently and for a second I thought that we would have another moment together
- I even instigated the opening stages in the hope that it would relieve my sadness
and help me to feel better, if only for a short while. But instead he released
his hold on me, reached across to retrieve something hidden at the foot of the
stairs and presented me with the largest red rose that I have ever
seen. It was beautiful and I thanked him for it, but rather than share in
my affections he spoke with a cold and impersonal tone and he told me to take
the rose home (no matter what Alex thought of it) and read the chapter on
deification in The Omega Course and
find a way to keep it alive. He said that I must learn that ‘faith is harder to
keep alive than life itself'. It was an intriguing instruction, but Luke
clearly believes that I am capable of it. And so I will try.
