Behind the gun today. A late start (which bothers the dickens out of me) and a hurried bit of being overwhelmed have put me out of sync with my world. I see boogey-men and women surrounding me. It is a real chore to keep moving and not allow myself to be angry when the ordinariness of day catches me. The ordinariness of that fellow with the unrestrained, over exciteable dog… you know the one. That fellow and his dog who just step out in front of a moving vehicle, assuming it will be able to stop in time. After I survive passing him and move on, then the woman who parked too close to me waits impatiently while I try to rock my car out of the space she wedged me into. The honks, the stares, the long lines – all of it a tragedy on an otherwise beautiful day like this. Sigh.
‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves that we are underlings…’ We are not fated? Our day is made by our own hand? Yes, my ability (or inability) to climb out of the ugly box is my salvation (or destruction). Is that our test as humans? All of us? That we should suffer to carry on without having a fully satisfactory violent scene at least once per day? Ah yes. We can’t blame it on God or the man and his dog. Equally, we can’t simply flow with it, believing the scene is willed and bash our vehicle repeatedly into the offender vehicle. Damn.
The truth is, were I to pause a moment, today is a beautiful day. They all are. Even the days of full arthritic pain or the death of a loved one are gorgeous days. How far out of the beauty I allow myself to be distracted is up to me. The human part is that, sometimes… a person just can’t separate from the prevailing emotion. That’s okay, too. Part of the no-plan perfection? I wrote a poem about perfection yesterday. It wasn’t perfect. Ha.
There are signs, shown to me daily. I can see them or not. It is myself, speaking from the depths of consciousness? I started working on a book about signs and got lost, I wasn’t sure how to tell the page what I was thinking, how to describe it. The signs can be as simple as a spilled drink, urging me to pay attention or as complicated as the woman at the end of the row of tables. She is obese and holds herself as though she felt uncomfortable. She doesn’t look happy and is trudging through eating a large sandwich. Occasionally, she raises her voice in a drowning sigh and I can hear her negativity. I am knowing, in my heart, that this person is the epitome of ‘garbage in – garbage out’. I am thinking she is a sign sent to me. My emotional approach to this day results from the garbage I swallow – I am poisoning myself with unrealistic expectation. I am not feeding myself properly with liberal doses of forgiveness. Okay.
I eat too much and of the wrong thing – from time to time. I spend too much and desire too much – from time to time. I drink too much of the right things – from time to time. I am trapped by the limitations placed on me by life and circumstance – from time to time. I dream of another place – from time to time and I aim my little boat there by doing my work – from time to time. Everything is okay – from time to time. Voila!
The beautiful day is revealed to me – from time to time.
Robert On The Air 