As midnight of the last hour of this year approaches and the accumulated memories of so much wasted effort gone awry wanes, I consider the past in light of its possibility of finding yet another a future. One unlike that proverbial horse caught again by unkind fate locked in a stall within a burning barn. So often have I in many years past relied upon the bulwark of my own indecision to carry me past anything demanding the cold embrace of anything new or strange. The false sense of security found in doing nothing new beyond observing the narrow wisdom of the past too comforting. The assurance of reliability in the short term eventually damning one to the vague repetition of what had been encountered so many times before. But nothing stays the same! And never committing a new option becomes implicit consent to soon die off by the weight of the old ways. For the world shifts and what was good becomes bad and the reverse.
As the many years in one ‘s life begin to accumulate to the point of losing their distinction, contemplation of such minor details as to one’s ultimate purpose overwhelm the relative benefit of always acting in the same.manner. That same weighty conversation held in private feeling increasingly akin to pushing that same old rocky large boulder up a steep incline while never knowing its purpose. Feeling less convinced this year than the previous year as to the necessity of committing to this same task of should or shouldn’t. A rising desperation come of year after year of in mounting failures punctuated by a reliable lack of personal advancement toward the empty compilation of one’s long forgotten goals. The futility leading to performing actions that are increasingly ill advised. A proposition that at best promises the surety of a roll of the dice at best. A hail Mary by a blind quarterback in the last seconds of the game.
Modern societies analogized as a tree reformatted in the modern sense of technology to the composition of common chipboard where the glue is infinitively more durable that the fragments of chattered lumber that it binds together. The business of trying to teach in an empire that has long been written off being a fallacy. A worthless gesture that brings no enlightenment to indifferent students nor reward to fools that attempts to convince them otherwise. Destiny demanding a withdrawal of their talents from these ungrateful masses in favor of finding a new audience more appreciative of one’s gifts. This is the wake that is left behind within the ocean of one’s past the dead of universal night.