When you break a bone, you get a cast. When you pull a muscle, you get a bottle of Percocet. When you rip open your skin, you get a bandage. What happens, though, when your spirit is seemingly exorcised?
There’s a constant mental tug-of-war going on in the hearts and minds of many who make a decision and, when faced with the consequences, wonder what the hell got into them when said decision was made. I’m not talking about regret for the sake of regret (e.g., you’re sorry for more than just what happened to you specifically). What I’m thinking about is how it is true how the flapping of a butterfly’s wing can literally change the tides around the world. We make a thousand decisions a day, not realizing that there is a consequence to every single action, down to whether you decided to merge into the passing lane at a particular time. Not all consequences are bad, of course, and it is always argued that each move was meant to happen the way it did — it’s that whole “there’s a reason behind everything” mantra.
In any event, it occurs to me that, the more you do, the more bad things are likely to happen. But, conversely, you’re upping your odds for better things, too. I mean, I did something that was a total waste of time this morning. And I knew it would be. But I made a deal with myself that I would learn something from it and that something would happen to offset the utter uselessness of it all. And something did happen to erase the ugly memory from earlier. I’m still struggling with the lesson in the first thing, though. Maybe it was a reality check, although that’s the only check I have that hasn’t bounced lately. 😉
Anyway, I went out and had a little bit of fun with a friend. We used to have the best times, but with me becoming a hermit for various reasons, I’ve missed our companionship. But I don’t know that I’m that good of company anymore; maybe I should just stay hidden until the tide turns. But if I keep clinging to the underside of a wave, it’s going to drown me. Perhaps a little entertainment here and there won’t kill me. I don’t know — I tend to choose pain because at least it means I’m still feeling something. But enjoying one’s time provides such a wonderful reprieve. It reminds you that you want to switch the balance and feel elation over ache any day. It’s been so long since I dreamed, danced, sang out loud, wrote a poem, wept with joy. But as difficult as it is to envision doing those things again, I have to believe I will … that I can. I hope there will come a day that I can’t find a reason not to do those things and more.
On iTunes: Bertie Higgins, “Key Largo”