I do not know all the ways in which the universe conspires to determine my fate. Even the few of which I am aware, I may misinterpret them—viewing something as bad in my limited view, which may actually turn out to be better in the grand scheme. Or, focusing inordinately on these few, I may miss another of more importance. We are not, however, completely powerless, when it comes to our destinies. What can we control? What should we control? And what else is better left to be as it will?
Month: November 2020
In the dark
I have not been up early or late enough lately. Only awake for the day, when it is light, and the whole rest of the world is awake with me, telling me what to do. It is in the dark where I used to find space to stretch out, but since setting my morning alarm, and getting to bed early enough to get a full eight hours, I have spent less time in the dark. That is where I used to find my inspiration. The dark is chaotic, but it is also creative and full of mysterious possibility. Whereas the light is clear for all to see—the title on your desk placard, the name on your name tag, the features of your face, the messiness of your apartment, the trash on the sidewalk—it can all be seen, accounted for, and set about the business of the day. But at night, all bets are off. God knows what people are doing. They should be asleep, and if not, then what? Where is the traffic cop to tell the hoodlums not to cross the road when the light is red? But there are no cars. Where is your boss to tell you to be at your desk during work hours? But the lights in the office are off and nobody is there. Where is the sun to say the day has started and it is time for you to be awake? But I am already awake, sun, I have beaten you to it. And the moon has told me what you would not. I will return in time, and when I do, I’ll have something new to show your day.
When the music stops
The mood changes. Why does that happen? Today we went to the park. It’s Halloween. There was a cement area with a white oval painted. People in costumes were roller skating around the circle. There were two particular skaters who were quite good. They were dressed as a pirate and a bumble bee. A large speaker in the center of the oval played disco music. We watched them dance—spinning in circles, standing up on the toes of their skates, bending low. And then the music stopped. They kept dancing, but less passionately, and it wasn’t the same. For us watching, the dancers now seemed out of place. But why? Where is that place that music takes us?