Peculiar how the life seems to return me to the place I began, the places I've been, the thoughts I've thought, and perhaps never completed, the conclusions I've made, and then revised completely.
My last post, some months ago, could be mirrored here in many ways.
A winter storm has again blanketed the South Plains beneath ice and snow, and the wind is howling, flinging pebbles of sleet against the third floor door that keeps the cold out of this tiny room that I now call home.
Ridiculous, really! How little control or influence one has over one's own life.
I get to choose, but I do not get to determine the outcomes, the benefits or the injuries.
I look back at my life and it appears that I've been pushed, floated, prodded, dragged, or just plain carried forward without choice or power.
A life that hangs by a thread, not of my own making, and one that could unravel or break with the next puff of wind, or by the next cruel hand that bears a blade sharp enough to cut it.
One's helplessness is a simple fact, though I try to deny it.
Many often succeed in that endeavor until their last breath. But with that last breath the truth is made clear, and nothing, no power on earth, can change the realization that we never had the rudder in hand, only a dream that comforted the yearning for control.
The ship of life I've sailed has been seaworthy and strong (figuratively speaking, of course), and the many years it took to learn to navigate from one point to another now adds up to nothing at all.
All realities are real. And nothing is real.
In so far as man's vision of self control or his ability to fool himself beyond dissolution goes, the merry-go-round keeps spinning, with its avatars and icons rising and falling, up and down, up and down.
This winter storm has me in a contemplative frame of mind, though clearly my thoughts are tinged with grief from the loss of my soul mate. I looked at a photo of her today and my tears flowed like a waterfall.
I hear a song that we shared in a moment of joy, and my heart aches and cracks.
This may be self pity, but it does not feel that way.
I'm in the grip of a force not generated from this world - sure as my body is grounded by gravity - and the fact of my helplessness, even unto my own thoughts or desires, is driven home again (in case I might forget).
Happy holidays, all! May the new year bring sweet success and fulfillment.
