I've learned to leave myself open to the idea that there are more things in heaven and earth than I can explain. I'm not susceptible to the idea of fate; I openly scoffed at the thought of predestination when the nuns brought it up.
And yet, while I actively fight certain paths, I get nudged back to them by circumstance.
Sometimes, I make arrangements with a sense of resignation, but I recognize that if I'm getting shoved that direction, I'm going to be shoved that direction until I capitulate. I've made enough revolutions around the sun now to realize there is no coincidence, that things happen because they happen.
I don't have a name for it. I don't understand it. I can't explain it.
It simply is.
And it keeps doubling back the same direction.
So I make the arrangements, and cry HAVOC!
No, I don't know why this all seems so Shakespearean.
Yes, I do.
I over think everything, always have done, even when it's been pretty clear that I'm going to do what I'm going to do. And because it's tragi-comic and it's going to make a mess. Eventually, everyone will end up in the right place, after tears and misunderstanding and blinding hope and a certain amount of chaos. We've been entr'acte here for a bit, though I'm not sure which act is about to start.
Yes, I do. So do you.
Of the end.
I fumble for a key to a door that's wide open.
I've never done boring well.
Off I go. The future awaits. No, I don't know what's going to happen. I never have done, exactly. I can make some guesses and I know it will be an adventure.
And probably a mess.
I find I'm filled with joy at the prospect.
Go listen to some good music: "Darkness" from the album Ghost in the Machine by The Police.