“There are winds of destiny that blow when we least expect them. Sometimes they gust with the fury of a hurricane, sometimes they barely fan one’s cheek. But the winds cannot be denied, bringing as they often do a future that is impossible to ignore.” ~ Nicholas Sparks
“[…] almost nothing important that ever happens to you happens because you engineer it. Destiny has no beeper; destiny always leans trenchcoated out of an alley with some sort of ‘psst’ that you usually can’t even hear because you’re in such a rush to or from something important you’ve tried to engineer. ” ~ David Foster Wallace
“I thought about one of my favorite Sufi poems, which says that God long ago drew a circle in the sand exactly around the spot where you are standing right now. I was never not coming here. This was never not going to happen.” ~ Elizabeth Gilbert
Excellent coffee to start the day. Cat asleep. Occasional coyote yips and barks in the dark distance. A good morning, if I do say so myself, and it’s my blog so . . . oh, never mind. It’s been a good two days off. Lots of rest. More food than I usually eat. A few episodes of Star Trek Next Generation, one of which I had not seen before. All said, the recent history leading up to this morning’s excellent coffee was satisfactory. Yeh, yeh, yeh, I shoulda gone for a much needed walk, but I didn’t, k? I have no justification for this neglect. I just did not go. I didn’t eat any popcorn either. That also is major neglect. I really must take better care of myself, he says, flirting with irony, and getting only a demure smile in return. Sigh. In my mental/feeling theater I have this powerful image of me walking along a Scottish shoreline under a sky that is about two steps this side of stormy. Gently roaring waves. A few gulls and terns. On my way back to a little cottage on a bluff overlooking this dynamic scene. I have been walking for maybe two hours, incrementally embracing the Autumn chill. The chill feels good to my chapped soul but the body says it’s gotta go. Back at the cottage, finally, I stoke up a fire in the hearth, pour a goblet of fine Scottish ale – a shot of single malt as well, then sit down at my desk, huff at the cat for her rather sprawling occupation of the desktop, and fall headlong into a misty gaze out over the scene before me, as the storm grows. There is a middle-aged blond woman who should be in this fantasy, but she’s not, except in the acknowledgment of her absence. How could it be that someone could evade being included in a fantasy? I’m guessing that my desire to know her better is better suited to reality. There’s a lot to be said about that, but I ain’t goin’ there, not right now. I’d better grab the fantasy gently and slowly shake it off, then put it away for some other time. I have to work today. I relish the fact that there is no true pressure before dawn; you can’t burn daylight before daybreak; it’s just not logical, so why bother. Daybreak leads to the pressured place, lubricated by Red Bull or latte, and I see it all as a launch from Wile E. Coyote’s catapult. He always falls flat, but likely I won’t. I enjoy my job, and I have fun most of the day. That woman with the hazel eyes – I suspect she slips into my fantasy scene when I am not looking. Maybe I will sneak up and surprise her one day. I’m not sure how that might work, or what it would look like. That is the allure of mystery. From my soul-sight I see that her inclusion in this fantasy would put an end to probabilities that really should oughtta be left open. How do you make the Goddess laugh? Tell her your plans. Yeh, she’s got a point. See, she laughs at me anyhow. That’s the thing: in that fantasy scene on the sea’s edge she is laughing at me for the sweet melancholy feeling I indulge. You simply have a robust case of Longing, she whispers silently, barely harboring a giggle. And in my heart I know that the woman is indeed included in this fantasy by the very fact of her absence. If she were there she would not, could not serve as a lodestar, and I suspect she would laugh softly at the very thought of it. Therapeutically speaking, I must work to integrate all of this laughter and giggles into my world. And that is truly funny. Kind of ironic as well, don’tcha think? I mean, after all, it is my fantasy.
All is well. Goof gloriously.