As I begin typing here in text edit, without looking, I know it's been awhile since I've posted. In the guttural voice of Bette Midler - belting it out as she was dying onstage in The Rose… Stay With Me Baby … yes, a bit dramastic for a blog post but I wanted to open with UMPHH! (even if it is borrowed OK STOLEN from 1979)…stay with me? baby?
Creeping up on the end of February…the young year has been surprising. I've been searching for my footing. I've been editing my life. I've been looking inward and further inward all the way to the earth's core and then back outward again to the handful of people I trust. Looking to my better self. And to the idea of Providence in my life.
I can talk about the details of the events that have informed my first two months of 2016 but it would bore even me, so I'll spare you.
Just this...my first two months of the year have more to do with me living fifty-one years than anything else. I have no time for bullshit. I have less than no time for bullshit. So I edit harshly and I'm not going to apologize for it because I Have No Time. If now, you're thinking that I sound puffed-up and haughty…I'd like to suggest that we're not different at all. You have no time. No time to spare. Breathe in Strength, Breathe out Bullshit.
My oldest son Aaron is in his Sophomore year at NC State University. He is taking a Philosophy course and he knows I would love to be sitting next to him with my perfectly sharp pencils and even sharper mind… tuned-in, hyper-focused, and grateful to be there. Aaron sends me bits from his notes that he loves and/or that he knows I would love. This past Wednesday he sent a quote. Reading this quote on the most perfect day I could read such a thing… I felt not only connected to him, but to the idea of providence…the wind at my back…the whole world pulling for me. my unique strength and energy. that there are no coincidences. that god is sometimes anonymous. faith.
here it is
"I wish my life and decisions to depend on myself, not on external forces, of whatever kind. I wish to be a subject, to be the instrument of my own, not of other men’s, acts of will. I wish to be a subject, not an object; to be moved by reasons, by conscious purposes which are my own, not by causes which affect me, as it were, from outside. I wish to be somebody, not nobody; a doer – deciding, not being decided for, self directed and not acted upon by external nature or by other men as if I were a thing, or an animal, or a slave incapable of playing a human role, that is, of conceiving goals and policies of my own and releasing them."