Saturday, 7 July 2012

Prelude to A Dream

 My mind has been a running narrative ever since I can remember. Playing out scenes, capturing nuances of people and places that intrigued me, sketching them in my mental notepad. What took me so long? I suppose I was waiting for the story to change. To write itself as a love story with a tragic heroine, tumultuous rocky beginnings all made worthwhile in the happy ending. That is not my story. This love came to me smooth and perfect like sandblasted sea glass. A curious beautiful mystery that was simple and comforting and wonderful. My ending may be tragic. But the story in between, my life, those are the happy parts. And, honestly, who would rather have a happy ending than a happy being?

For the longest time I held firm in the belief that I was the master of my destiny. That sort of be-all-you-can-be-you-can-do-anything-if –you-put-your-mind-to-it crap. I considered, finally, that it is better not to decide the outcome of your own story in advance. That maybe there was something to be said for serendipity. As terrifying as it is, deciding to let the narrative play out on it’s own, without imposing outside co
strictures, is liberating. Much like prying open a long forgotten attic window, casting aside cobwebs to make way for fresh paint and a new lifetime worth of memories. Isn’t that what happens in the end anyway? Life has its way with you – not the other way around.

In many ways life is like a painting.Hey! I can see you rolling your eyes. And yes, this does sound unbelievably cheesy. Sometimes I just feel like my moods swish from haze to sharpness with no visible rhyme or reason. Close inspection yields chaotic messiness, so confusing in the blended areas that when you look close enough you can’t tell where one color ends and another begins. Sometimes determined to finish a straight line or complete an arch or skipping and splattering haphazardly, ending up in exactly the right places. A work-in-progress never makes sense. And when the moment comes that the Cosmic Artist sets down his palette, surveys the whole picture, stretches the canvas, and frames your world, can you step back and see that from far away, your life is really, really wonderful?

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