Perhaps we create our own existence and the circumstances governing us around it? I like many sit here in the last hour before that arbitrary point in the passing of a year when we have been told the great mystery of the world that we inhabit will return as a spinning orb from the furthest point into the darkness that we are communally allowed to travel. So goes the myth that plays out as fact that all are enjoined to hold dear. What lies ahead but what we ourselves have fore destined by twelve months multiplied by the number of such cycles that this material plane has allowed us individually to enjoy. Learning along the way that all is temporary growing steadily in importance until that point in time when another fancy takes hold and the former is abandoned and left behind to be soon forgotten. Family, friends, wealth, power and position. Sooner or later that shiny measure of excitement in enjoying each becomes dulled by an endless repetition of the seach for same. The habit of a trajectory whose inertia can only offer more of the same leading one to believe that worthwhile choices have become few and that daily weariness that seems to addle the mind’s ability to imagine seems inescapable. The weight of chains of our own character drags our love of life to a crawl and thoughts are summoned that suggest it would be better if things about us were no more. The great gulf of empty oblivion surrounding and encroaching seeming a warmer blanket than a world of possibility grown cold. Some form of magic of the spirit needed to relight the torch we have set down. Some measure of will to attempt to reformat the balance of what drives us up daily from the grave of our bedrooms into a world that has long lost its luster.
The occasional report of distant drums on the horizon sounds signaling the destruction of the current episode that has been our master. Distant strangers sending up an incendiary report of sparks from fireworks denoting a symbolic destruction of the present tense that will quickly fade into the possibility of a different future. We as we have been known very soon to die and then be reborn. All given the chance like a chrysalis to shed the encrusted barnacles of so much futility and take on a child-like perspective free of obvious conclusions. The long journey across a seemingly endless sea no longer encumbered by a hull sullied by the barnacles accreted along the way. But in its stead a new world of possibility where the past is allowed to be relegated to its rightful place and no longer subtend every action of the present. The great mystery of endless possibility once again taken up that allows one to explore without hesitation those emotions long suppressed within. A sort of resurrection of the legacy of ourselves bestowed upon us by former generations that have subsequently fallen away but in whose shadow we live. What would one dare to find by dropping all pretense to habit? To once more focus one on a quest for rediscovering a single simple pleasure as its own reward alone. To leave behind expectation of a predetermined outcome without running back to it in terror when circumstances not to our current mode of liking appear. Is not temporal loss more than occasionally an invitation to the gain of something completely new and unexpected? Life as a challenge to a seasoned adventurer. Is that not that which we all hope and dream of at night?
The ceiling of my own bedroom has for too long played my sky. The dim lights of Plato’s garage far off, and the shadows it casts in the dead of night significant of mortal existence as I now know it. The light of unexpected circumstance ever present and alive outside the portal of my door. Shall I become entranced by it once more again as I had in those long lost first times, I will be the luckiest of creatures in this ongoing waking dream of my own theatrical reality. We all deserve the sort of fates that we assign ourselves. This current ritual denoting rebirth merely a matter of moments away. Where will it leave me this time but in the cradled embrace of good fortune? Or the crippled posture of another defeat? Who knows and really, who cares. My best wishes to all my former enemies and friends. May good fortune embrace all! Happy New Year!