Seventeen years ago, my life, which I had trusted up till then, kicked me out onto a freaking highway with traffic whizzing by me on all sides. With very little warning I found myself scrambling to pull together some semblance of a new path that wouldn’t allow me to be run over by a passing whim of fate. I told myself I should see this as a second chance, a do-over in which I could change some things. And I did. I made choices, good and bad, and learned there is a great deal of possibility in the universe. I finished the obligations and responsibilities I’d begun before my detour and felt a sense of satisfaction with their outcome.
Today I stopped the car and got out of my own free will. Perhaps it’s wrong to try an old technique to gain a new perspective but I thought, hey, it worked before. And this way I have a small bit of control over the impending consequences. Or at least a bit of warning that they’re coming. Every fool has his mantra and mine seems to be “change”. Back all those years ago I lost the belief that life has any sort of permanency beyond letting us wake up and breathe enough mornings to call our existence living. Then one day, true to its nature, it changes the plan on us.
At least this is the truth for some of us. There are those out there who have lives with connections that keep them in place, like tie-downs in case of windstorms. They don’t get blown off path and they never feel like they’ve been chunked out into a maelstrom. But there are some of us who the universe apparently sees as dandelion seeds, meant to be carried along by the wind for the purpose of planting a kind of beauty not everyone can accept. Or meant to blow in that selfsame wind until we reach the next plane of existence. We touch down now and then, to plant bits of this and that along the way before we’re taken off on another torrent of change to face new landscapes, new highways. And we always hope that what we leave behind roots and grows, allowing us a legacy of beauty that is some comfort along the road.