Speechless…

 

I had planned to do some funny posts this week, after all of the deep thinking of last week. In fact, I had a pretty good one in mind. But then today happened.

To say I am stunned, so much so that I can’t even be angry about what happened at Virginia Tech today, puts it mildly.

Details are sketchy and the police and school officials are keeping what information they have close to the vest. If you are interested in reading about it, The Drudge Report will likely have the most updated news as information becomes available.

It appears to have been based on a domestic incident, jealousy to be specific. How over 30 people end up without their lives over a love triangle I’m not sure, and if that turns out to be the case – again, I’m speechless.

I think we need to wake up – turn off the hype and take a good look at our society. Students have no reasonable expectation of being shot at while attending school. They have no reason to expect a crazed gunman to show up and open fire. They had no reason to believe, when they woke up today, that it would be anything other than a normal Monday morning. Yet, this  young man felt justified in terrorizing and taking lives. And traumatizing and likely, ruining the lives of those left behind to clean up the mess he made.

Following this incident, there will be the usual parade of talking heads and politicians and special interest groups, all fighting for face time to prove that their cause would have stopped this incident from happening. Some people will be too vulnerable, too ignorant and too scared to see them for what they are – shameless panderers who will stop at nothing to advance their causes.

Gun control groups will come out and demand the government make guns illegal. Human rights groups will come out and insist we feel sorry for the murderer and try to understand his pain and torment, for surely, it was that that caused him to take these lives. Shallow and superficial displays will be made by ‘officials’ who do it because it is the right thing to do. Capital crime supporters will come out and espouse the merits of the death penalty. And so it will go. Another tragedy will be turned into a horse and pony show and no solution will be found.

Why? Because no one will really want to do that. Because that would require real examination of society and accountability and lack thereof. They would rather, form a committee, throw money some around and come up with a new mental disease than acknowledge the fact that we have stopped caring about our fellow man. That we would rather drug our children than listen to them. That we would rather let the experts handle the woes of society than do anything about it ourselves. That we would rather hang our heads, change the channel and watch reruns.

It’s a very sad day in Virginia. And my heart and condolenses go out to the families and victims of this terrible day. And it is a sadder day in America. Because this diminishes us, each of us. And if you don’t think so, then I think you’re kidding yourself.

WC

Is Reflection a Bad Thing?

 

Lately it seems I’ve been stumbling upon various posts that complain about the introspective (selfish?) nature of bloggers. Too self involved, too much ME and not enough THEM or IT (I guess?).

It made me wonder because recently I’ve been writing some ‘think’ pieces. Have I been just thinking out loud, instead of writing? Thoughts that shouldn’t be spoken or written but kept to myself? Maybe I’ve just been bumming y’all out without realizing it. Cringe. And hey, maybe that’s something bloggers shouldn’t do. Or maybe it’s just something I shouldn’t do?

Is it arrogant to think that anyone out there is interested in my inner thoughts? Could be they’re ‘inner’ for a reason. Hmmm.

But if that’s the case, doesn’t that violate that old writer’s chestnut about writing what one knows? The goal of writing in part is to write it real and to be true and honest in what we write. If that’s the case, then how can we write without looking inward and reporting what we find there?

Is reflection part of that or is it just pure indulgence? I really don’t know – so please feel free to jump in and offer your opinions about it.

We all have our reasons for blogging – we all write for a reason, but isn’t it a universal truth that writers (or any artist for that matter) write because they feel they have a voice and want it to be heard. That they have something to say? I mean, somebody has to say something, don’t they? Even writers/bloggers who write as though they are above it all – aren’t they really just espousing their opinions too? Aren’t they writing from the core they call self?

 I don’t know – it could be there are those of you out there who can write from the ‘outside’ as observers. Maybe that’s the way it ought to be. But in my mind, if you’re writing from the ‘outside’ as an observer then aren’t you just recording what you see and hear? And if so, are you the origin or just the conduit through which the reporting of facts and events come?

Me? I write from the inside out. It’s my way and always will be. Call it indulgent, call it self-absorbed, call it egotistical – call it whatever you like. For me, it’s the only way to go.

What about you? From the outside or the inside? Is reflection actually a thing that is better left unsaid and in your head?

WC

An Undeniable Force

 

Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever, is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, let your mind dwell on these things. [Philippians 4:8].

I have always believed in the lesson of Easter. The ascension of good over evil, light over darkness. To reflect on the idea that there was someone so purely good that he would die for the transgressions of the rest of humanity is staggering. Even if you don’t prescribe to Christainity or believe in any aspect of it, the story of Christ must give one pause.

I know that it is cool and hip to bash Christianity and in fact, organized religion in general these days. That depicting Christ as a criminal, a pervert or even a monster is what passes as art or edgy dialogue – but I reject that as having any validity. To disagree with something does not mean to denigrate it.

The lessons and teachings of Christ are valuable, in fact, most of the moral and belief systems in the world follow the architecture of those lessons. Ponder that for a moment.

Though I was raised as a Catholic (strong Christian attitudes there) I don’t identify myself as a Catholic. The reasons for this are not important to anyone but myself. Nonetheless, I don’t reject Christ as a saviour. Even if he was merely a man, the effect he had and continues to have on the world is worthy of respect and awe. And I can think of few who have had a comparable impact on the world, perhaps no one has.

Even if he was only a symbol of peace on Earth, that symbol brought mankind out of darkness and gave the light of hope. How could this be a bad thing? What could be a better gift to your fellows?

When I was a little girl, I always loved the stories of Jesus and his teachings – they made me feel that there was true goodness in the world. Something the world needed desperately and still does.

So over this weekend, while I am enjoying myself with food and celebration – chocolate bunnies and Easter eggs, I will reflect on how this incredible man changed the world.

Happy Easter everybody.

WC

An Answer For Everything…

 

When I was a kid, my mom used to say I always had an answer for everything, which was code for ‘you’re such a smart aleck’ but I enjoyed nonetheless.

Well, this isn’t really a post about that though.

Debi of Ms Crankypants has posed three questions for me to answer -an off-shoot of the whole Alabaster Crippens meme – and I decided to answer them here.

So here goes:

1) What event from your childhood or teen years still has a lasting effect on you to this day?

This is a tough one because it is quite personal. But what the heck… When I was about 12, I was very excited because I had managed to save a good deal of money for Christmas gifts. I really wanted to buy something special for my mother. So, I really budgeted the money for the other gifts on my list so I’d have enough left over to buy her a real gold cross on a chain. She had mentioned many times how she had wanted one and I was thrilled that I was going to be able to give her one. I bought the cross, tiny though it was and on a very delicate chain, it was still 14k gold and I couldn’t wait for Christmas day to arrive.

After weeks of agonizing waiting Christmas day arrived and I gave her the gift. Beside myself with anticipation. When she opened it, she cried and I was elated that she was so touched. But then she said, ‘It’s so small. Is that all you think of me, to give me something so small?’ (or words to that effect). I was crushed of course and disappointed. And I think I tried to explain to her but honestly, it’s a bit of a blur what was said after that point.

At the time, I thought she was being mean. Or maybe that she just didn’t love me very much or less than my brothers and sister. And I vowed I would never buy her anything that would ever enter the area of ‘special’ again because I couldn’t bear that kind of reaction from her again.

But in retrospect, I don’t think she was being mean. I think that she had many insecurities and self doubts. And that for some reason that necklace reinforced those insecurities and doubts. That in her mind, it validated her fear that she didn’t matter. And to me, that is even sadder that my mother wouldn’t know how much I was trying to please her and make her happy.

It has always affected my relationship with her and I’ve always felt tenuous with her and worry whenever I have to buy her a gift or send her a card. I try to pretend that it doesn’t matter but it does. She has a birthday coming up and I spent days trying to find something to send her that I thought she would like. I settled on something but I have little hope she’ll like it. I know she’ll say she does but…

Anyway, that’s the answer to that one.

2) What is the purpose of imagination and where does it come from?

I believe the purpose of imagination is to bring about the future. Without imagination, we would not have any of our modern technology, music, art, literature – artists are the dreamers of our society and they through their art dream and bring into reality products of their imaginations.

3) What book would YOU want to have written, and why?

Without question I would have wanted to write Atlas Shrugged. There are several reasons why. I strongly identified with Dagny Taggert, a true individual who did not care what others thought of her and was guided by her own conscience and values, despite incredible influences to act otherwise. She would not compromise her beliefs or ideals. Also, I believe it is one of the most important books ever written because it makes the case that we are each responsible and accountable for our actions or inactions and that no one is owed a living, wherewithall, possessions, or status that is not earned. To me, a definitive text of the 20th century and modern society. And probably most importantly, because it was an elegant and flawlessly written story that continued until it was truly over. Rather than ending on a specified page count.

Well Debi, there you have it. That was interesting… 😉
WC

How Does It Dream To You Now?

 

When I was a little girl, a very little girl, I wanted to be a ballerina. I could envision the stage, the music and my perfect, graceful body flying through space. But how did a three-year-old know about such things? My family came from farmers, people of the earth, not artists. What weird reconfiguration of fate placed me there? What master plan was in play?

I always felt just a little outside the family. As though I wasn’t really there. I was in a physical sense of course. I was the one with the blonde curls and soulful eyes. I was the wise child who didn’t say much but seemed to know plenty. The one who always wondered if the stork had made a wrong turn because of a snow storm or earthquake. The others fit into each other like puzzle pieces. They made a picture that made sense. I was the piece that no one could find the niche into which I belonged.

The next dream was to be a fireman. Then a teacher. Then a doctor. A bon vivant who strolled the streets of Paris singing out ‘bonjour, bonjour!’ My mind couldn’t settle on just one, I wanted to be them all. Perhaps that is how I came to writing. There are no limits there, you can be whoever and whatever you want to be. Just put the pen to paper and voila you are there, you are it. Simple. Easy. Well, not quite.

My head was in the clouds or off on some distant planet. My heart was wrapped in the colors of my imagination – such vibrant, dimensional colors that I never longed to be back on Earth. Yet, time and again I would be pulled back to perform a mundane task; laundry, cooking, making my bed, homework, going to work. And each time the me inside of me would protest, pout a little and carry on like the martyr I was. ‘It’s not fair,’ I’d mutter to myself. ‘I don’t want to do this.’ At which point the practical me would surface and scold. I had to work hard, I had to carry my weight, fulfill my obligations – life was expecting it of me and I acquiesced. Damn it! Damn it all to hell!

I comforted myself with the dream that one day I would have my dream. That one day I would finish all the chores and work and obligations and then I could really live my dream. Even though my dream was constantly shifting and changing shape and no matter how much I chased it, it could never be caught, I still dreamed of living my dream.

Is it an inherent quality of writers that they are never satisfied? Is it part of the spiritual and mental makeup of the scribe? Or is it that we can so easily assume the viewpoint of anyone and anything? That is a quality that has always annoyed many in my life. I can pick up an identity and be it – like that. I always have wondered if it’s a charm or a curse. I’m not sure I will ever be able to answer that question and maybe I prefer to have it lurking around in my psyche to tease and taunt me like a naughty lover who won’t commit. Meanwhile, half the time I feel like I should be committed.

So here I am, all grown up as they say and I’m still chasing the dream of the living the dream and I have to ask myself, ‘What is it?’ So many answers pop up, like impatient school children flailing arms in the air when they are sure they know the answer to the teacher’s question. But only answer that rings true is, writing. I want to write. I want to spend the rest of my life writing. And if I’m lucky I will die in front of my computer or at a desk with pen and pad in hand, in the middle of thought that was so pure and perfect that I had to get it down before I lost it. I may never amount to anything, be a someone, be sought after by fans or groupies or even get any of my books published BUT I will always write. And that makes me a writer because a writer writes. And so I am living my dream. So, it dreams to me now pretty damn fine.

Tell me your dreams.

WC

Fragile

I often marvel at what other people think of me. I mean the image they have. Apparently I am some indestructible, always lands on her feet, warrior of perservance and (occasionally) truth. I think to myself ‘if only they knew.’

In fact, I am not that person. Oh sure, I aspire to be that person. I strive to be strong and gutsy emotionallly – independent and cheerful – all the good stuff. But if I were to be honest then I’d have to say that in many ways I’m fragile.

I break easily if you know just the right way to break me. And shatter into millions of pieces. Though you wouldn’t know it to look at me. Because I do my crying behind closed doors. Most of what stresses me out I make jokes out of or do posts about. I poke fun at them and me. In fact, I am the usual target of my own jokes. And everyone generally laughs with me. They think I’m a riot. Some goofy, eccentric oddball who has a very funny perspective on life.

I suppose that’s true in its own way. But I’m still fragile. I still break when I am crashed into a wall. I still bleed when I am cut. I cry when I am hurt. I am not indestructible. I am not the person who is untouched by any and every thing. And I just wish once in a while somebody acted like they knew that. I just wish that once in a while I could be the one leaning on somebody else. I just wish that once it wasn’t my job to cheer up the whole fricking world.

But it isn’t that way and I accept it.

Perhaps in my next life I will get to be the damsel in distress and see what it feels like to have everyone falling all over themselves to make me feel cared for. I wonder what that is like. I really do.

WC

Boomer Truths

 

I am one of the annointed ones. You may know my demographic as baby boomer. Yep, I’m a boomer. When you say it like that it sounds kind of like a skateboard champion or something, doesn’t it? Or something equally arrogant?

I have to tell you I am sick of us. I am sick of the boomers. I sick of the generation who thinks it rules the universe from now until eternity. The mantra of never getting old, never passing the torch is pretty irritating.

I remember when I was a kid I was barely in the demograhic, just managed to squeak in there. By the time I was a teen, I was pert near in the middle of the range, now I imagine I’m somewhere in the subgenre of silver or maybe bronze baby boomers since the ‘goldens’ are about to retire and single-handedly destroy social security by sucking it dry. (Funny, I thought Congress had done that 20 years ago. They must be boomers too. )

It’s like the generation that will not die. The generation of generations. The one time in human history that super humans were born. I mean think about it. Look what us boomers have actually contributed to society. The Anti-War Industry; Global Warming/Cooling industry; Catalytic Converters; Economy Cars; An entire economy for Japan and subsequently all Asian nations; Anti-Smoking laws; Anti-Honesty (political correctness); Illiteracy among high school graduates; Institutional Anarchy; Mind Control drugs (psychotropics which alter the chemistry in the brain, all in the name of controlling mental illnesses which by and large are invented); the U.N. (which is supposed to stand for United Nations but really stands for Unbelievable Ninkompoops); they helped us lose a war we actually won (Vietnam) and therefore sentenced millions of people to the killing fields(don’t know what I’m talking about, look it up); they killed class and sense; were able to turn a white trash president into the first black president; botox; plastic surgery; liposuction; cloning; stem cell research; abortion on demand and many other things. Feeling proud? I know I sure am.

To be fair there have been other contributions which were good – and I don’t think all baby boomers are bad – but the bad ones are so bad, so arrogant I want to scream and the good ones no one seems to listen to. But the thing that is so funny to me and maybe is a secret that I’m not supposed to tell is this: Their real thing and what really motivates them is that they don’t want to get old. They will do and say anything rather than get old. Their whole lives revolve around looking and acting young. Ponce de Leon has nothing on these folks – cuz they are never, never, never, never, ever going to get old.

They will build hearing aids into their Ipods, sew Depends into their designer capris, wear their hair extensions to their caskets; laser out their wrinkles; dye what hair they have left; liposuction their fat bellies and asses and drive Corvettes forever. Just so you don’t know how old they really are.

Me? Personally I don’t see anything wrong with wanting to look good or feel good, or have healthy habits – but I am getting older. So what? That is a mantle passed from generation to generation, it is a medal from life that is earned. The joy of getting older is that you find you don’t have nearly as much to prove as you once thought; you have experience; you gain wisdom and can determine really what is important. I find it very freeing and delightful. I wear my wrinkles proudly and the sun damage and the silver (ultra blonde) hairs and all the rest. Maybe if a lot of my fellow boomers would relax and accept who they really are, the world wouldn’t be such a bizarre place. Or maybe it would. Hard to say.

WC

Oy Carumba, the Guilt!

Recently I’ve mentioned problems on the job front – the company I worked with for almost 3 years was having trouble. Well, I’m sorry to say that the trouble didn’t end and I have left what I affectionately called The Land of Fun.

It was a fun, easy-going place to work – since we made movie props and I guess were sorta kinda in show business, there was no end of make-believe going on. But I guess there is more than make-believe needed to keep a business going.

No worries about me, as I’ve gotten another job, which I start Monday. It’s a far cry from the Land of Fun and it will be a brand new adventure for me – or them, I guess we shall see who experiences the most surprise. 😉

I felt kind of guilty leaving my old job. We’d all become such comrades it rather felt like deserting the ship – but I had to admit that I needed to take care of me first and so left I did.

Now, I could have started my new job this week actually. I could have just jumped right into the fray and let the chips fall where they may. But, I decided (since the folks at Land of Fun didn’t require me to work out any notice) to just take a few days off.

I reasoned that there were lots of stupid, little things that needed to be done that I never seem to get around to doing. That I was some time to decompress and chill out. I wanted to go to my new job, fresh and relaxed. That I deserved a break. Because truth be told I don’t take vacations. Oh sure, I went away for a few days over Thanksgiving and as much fun as it was to see my friends, it was work. Try tagging along with a mother of three ages 9, 2 & 1 and you’ll know what I mean. Hell, I needed a vacation after the vacation.

So, okay, I’m having a little vacation. I’m catching up on sleep. Reading. Doing things around the house. Reveling in the solitude (did I mention roomie got a job?) and silence. I’ve been taking long walks with the dog – collecting bouquets of wild flowers – taking long showers, tweezing my eyebrows. Really important stuff.

Yet…the guilt. After a day and a half I started feeling like I was committing a crime. I felt like I should call my new job and confess that I was goldbricking for a few days before I decided to come in. I’m blowing off that idea the consultant had about going in on Saturday to get a little orientation. I’m not answering the phone for fear it might be someone who might want me to do something. I peer through the kitchen curtains to see if the Job Police are cruising my neighborhood, looking for layabouts.

I’ve parked my car a few houses down from mine, in case somebody I know drives by won’t think I’m home. When I go out I wear dark glasses and slouchy clothes so I won’t be recognized. I haven’t called any friends because I don’t want them to know I’m slacking. WTF is wrong with me? I mean, why the guilt?

I’ve been on my own and working for a living since I was 17. Even when I lived with my parents, I worked, bought my own clothes and textbooks, was always doing something. I’m not wired to lay around and do nothing. I mean, not that I’m doing nothing – I’m doing stuff. And it’s stuff that needs to be done but…I still feel guilty.

If I’m not out somewhere doing something, or writing about something or reading about something then I feel like I’m letting my fellow man down. Why can’t I simply enjoy my sloth week? Why can’t I revel in being bad. In being lazy. In doing nothing? Why????????

Do you think it has anything to do with being raised Catholic? I man people always say that the Jews have the corner on guilt but maybe they haven’t had any run ins with the Nuns. The ones who give you the look. You know the look? The one that can put a crease in your slacks, while you’re wearing them? The one that can make you pray for forgiveness even if you haven’t done anything? I’m telling you – the guilt, the guilt, the guilt. I can’t take it anymore!

Gotta go…somebody is lurking outside my house and I’m afraid they can hear the keys tapping.

WC

Writer Chick Predicts…

You know when I was a kid I used to love to read or hear about all the crazy, whacko predictions the psychics of the day would make about the coming year. What was really hilarious was how they would (later) try so hard to make the facts of something somehow mold into a prediction they’d made.

So in the spirit of that – I, Writer Chick, shall also make a few predictions sure not to come true – and if any do, it will be purely accidental.

I predict that in 2007:

  1. Fat people will be outlawed in NYC and if apprehended with a box of oreos, booked for possession of trans-fats.
  2. Teddy Kennedy will become the new spokesperson for Jenny Craig (maybe Kirstie will lend him her old body shapers?).
  3. Global warming will cause hot, fresh pizzas to rain from the skys during hurricanes that rail for 30 minutes or less.
  4. Britney Spears will create her own underwear line called Now you see it – Now you don’t.
  5. In a tell-all book, Madonna will reveal her favorite moisturizer is embalming fluid.
  6. Al Gore will invent a hybrid vehicle that runs on gas and electricity and call it the Priestess.
  7. The ACLU will file a class action lawsuit against the State of Texas in behalf of beef cows, citing slavery and wrongful death as key points.
  8. Apple will unveil its latest innovation, the BlogPod.
  9. Stem cell researchers will successfully replicate a conscience and offer it to Hillary Clinton for beta testing.
  10. Arnold Schwartzeneger will ‘come out’ as a Democrat.
  11. Rosie O’Donnell will admit on Oprah that she is the victim of a botched sex change operation.
  12. The first transexual Miss America will be crowned.
  13. The New York Yankees will win the World Series – by accident.
  14. Scientists will discover that land masses and ice masses surrounded by water experience erosion, thereby diminishing the size of said mass.
  15. Inexpicable accidents and scandals will befall any opponents to Senator Clinton in the bid for the Democrat candidacy.
  16. Barak Obama will blame his ears on President Bush (why not? everything else is his fault.)
  17. In a daring move, CBS will replace anchorperson Katie Couric with Barney the purple dinosaur – hoping to capture the heretofore untapped demographic of oversized stuffed animals everywhere.
  18. The medical community will unanimously agree that living is dangerous to one’s healthy and Congress will pass a law that all newborns henceforth will be tatooed with the Surgeon General’s warning of same.
  19. Michael Moore will premeire his first film based on fact in his biopic called Fat Like Me.
  20. Maureen Dowd will marry Jim Gilchrist and become a born again Libertarian and start her own newspaper called North of the Border.
  21. Bob Woodward will admit on 60 Minutes that everything he has ever written is lies and promote his upcoming book, All I know is I Can’t Tell the Truth.
  22. In an attempt to increase environmental awareness, major designers will develop a machine that can make fabric out of matter recovered in landfills. And use the fabric in their new spring lines. (clothes pins will be issued to all attendees at the Spring showing.)
  23. Jimmy Carter will become the new spokesperson for Jiff peanut butter, making the claim that it has a little known use as mortar (as demonstrated in the habitat for humanity model homes).

and finally….

We’ll all be going to Hell in a handbasket. 😉

Okay, those are my predictions…anyone care to offer some of theirs?

Live for the Moment?

 

Remember when you were a little kid and you were so full of plans you could barely sit still? You could hardly gulp down your dinner you were so looking forward to running across the street to play with your pal Suzie or Joe? How you fell asleep dreaming of being a superhero, the Lone Ranger, Wonder Woman or maybe even Richard Simmons? 😉 You just couldn’t wait to get to tomorrow.

Then what happened? You grew up, right? Suddenly you were living for today. You couldn’t bear thinking past the here and now. Too many things could go wrong, the job sucks, you’re not doing what you want to do, you’re not living your dream…maybe you don’t even think about your dreams that much anymore. And maybe even your dreams have diminished – you no longer dream of making the world your oyster – you’d be happy if you were a couple of payments ahead on the mortgage and if you could go a whole month without car trouble. Sound familiar?

Living life takes so much time and trouble, there is little room for the dreams big or small. You’re stuck. You’re here and that’s pretty much all you can deal with. And maybe you don’t mind too much – you’ve grown up now – the dreams well…they were kidstuff – not realistic – a lot of trouble for too little return. You’ve found a comfortable spot in the present and now take that familiar ride day in and day out.

But you know…I think that’s what’s wrong with most of us. Why we’re so damned tired at the end of the day. Why life’s ups and downs drive us nuts. We’re stuck in the present. We’re neurotic. We obsess, we worry, we fret, we bitch, moan and complain. There isn’t enough time in the day, enough days in the week, enough weeks in the month, enough months in the year to really get to anything done that hasn’t posed itself as some sort of daily emergency.

Tune ups, parent-teacher meetings, grocery shopping, meal cooking, child care, laundry, dental appointments and more eat up the day and keep us stuck. In our heads, in our lists, in our never-ending tedious day to day lives. There’s just nothing left at the end of the day.

But I don’t think it’s supposed to be that way. Seriously, when you think about it, isn’t life really about the future? Isn’t it about the plans we make to conquer this or that? Own this or that? Master this or that? Be this or that? Even if you break it down – why are you working today if not to at least put food on the table tomorrow? Why are you getting up today if you aren’t planning to go from point A to point B as the day progresses? You eat so you’ll be alive tomorrow, you exercise so you can fit into that pair of jeans tomorrow or next week or next month, yes? I think you do. I think you have to. I think that if one doesn’t have the purpose of creating tomorrow there is no today or maybe there is only today.

 So I have to disagree with all those nifty greeting cards and posters and cardboard characters in movies that laud the philosophy of living for the moment – live for today – carpe diem and all that crap. If you live for the moment then what happens to you when the moment has passed? Ah…right you go on to the next moment – and that is the future, isn’t it?

By and large, I think that’s what’s been bugging me lately. I’ve been so stuck in the here and now that thinking about tomorrow hasn’t even been an option. So worried about this thing or that thing that even thinking got to be too painful. It’s just been all about getting through the day or the moment. Making it through with minimal damage, injury and disaster. And frankly, that ain’t no way to live – I think it’s a trap. I think that there are people out there who want to convince you and me that living for the moment is all we get. All we’re entitled to.

Now why would someone want that, you’d probably ask. Good question. Simple answer could be power. There are people in the world who want to control things, people, events. Some do it on a grand scale and some on a small scale but they do it. The boss that is hypercritical until you are so apathetic and co-dependent that thinking an original thought much less saying it out loud never happens anymore. The nagging spouse who thinks every creative thing you want to do is stupid or crazy. The friend who tells you to get a grip when you voice one of your whacky ideas. Yeah, they all want you to live in the moment – they want you to stay stuck in each and every moment – because if you don’t why hell you might actually create something – might actually cause some effect on the world. Which of course might give you some control of your own life.

I admit it’s not easy to live for the future. It’s hard work to battle all the resistance and inertia that abounds all around you. Just think back on last week during the ‘holiday’ did you try to get something done? Did it feel like you were dancing in peanut butter? There you go. It’s tough – people get grumpy – you get grumpy but you have to do it. If you don’t the future, just happens to you and when that happens it’s never a future of your making – it is the future that has been made for you.

Personally, I prefer to make my own. So, I’m going to give that a whirl. I’ll probably fall flat on my face because between you and me I’ve been at this a long time – but if I’m going to fall flat on my face I want to be the one who put me there. Wish me luck.

WC