Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

A belief long past usefulness.

February 6, 2018

 

I don't know if I believe in fate. Certainly, I don't like to think that my life has been mapped out somewhere, with or without my consent. But there is a certain comfort in thinking (especially when things go terribly wrong, especially when it's one's own poor judgement that instigated whatever chain of events that happened to follow) that this was just how it had to be, and this is the best I could do in this moment with these circumstances.

 

I mean, we all know that's not (always) true. But we also know that forgiving ourselves is essential for good health, good sleep, and a good life. 

 

But I do love the idea that, somewhere, somehow, there are divine somethings-or-other looking out for our own best interest, listening to us when no human can stand to do so any longer, moving pieces around (gently and with all kinds of compassion) so that we may do more than make a mess of things this time. I like this idea of a team up there somewhere attempting to ensure that I don't make as much of a fool of myself this go around, that I don't sabotage whatever chances I have left, that I don't miss a scenic side road as I zoom toward this or that goal. 

 

I imagine they're kept quite busy. I imagine we could help them out by, every once in a while, believing in something bigger than ourselves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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