Sometimes life does things that you just aren't expecting.
For instance one morning you may come across a crumpled five pound note in the street. 'Ah,' you'll think to yourself, 'I'm going to treat myself to a coffee and a bagel with this free, slightly smelly, crumpled five pound note.' And you'll hurry along to the nearest coffee shop, not looking where you are going and get run over buy a bus. The five pound will whaft out of your hand and float onto the pavement for someone else to pick up.
You weren't expecting the five pound note. You weren't expecting the bus.
When is it that we should take note of the unexpected? The above example is flighty whimsy, but life is a tricksy bastard . . .
Imagine. I am walking down a path. There is green either side of me and the track below is made of small shale pebbles. In front of me I see a fork, behind which, both avenues look identical, although I know they will be different. I stand patient and wait for a sign. Nothing presents itself and so I start off down the right-hand path. I stop. Slowly I reverse and walk back to the fork. Staring the choice hard in the face I want for something to change. I sit on the floor and wait. Time shifts. The grass grows brown and everything moves on. The light rises and falls, descending me into darkness. Years pass; there are no signs but I continue to wait. One morning I awake, in front of the fork, and stand. My knees creak as I push myself off the floor. I look at my hands. The skin on them folds and wrinkles. I am old. My hair cascades down my back and is a blanket of coarse grey so long it trails far beyond my waist. I turn to the fork no longer angry, no longer determined; now I am only tired. I turn left. A heaviness is upon my legs that I have never felt before and it is an effort to walk down the avenue. But I do, and I continue. I just keep walking. I am too old to care about the right avenue now.
Both avenues lead to the same place.
Life is a tricksy bastard, and who knows which avenue is the right one. Ultimately, though, does it really matter?
For instance one morning you may come across a crumpled five pound note in the street. 'Ah,' you'll think to yourself, 'I'm going to treat myself to a coffee and a bagel with this free, slightly smelly, crumpled five pound note.' And you'll hurry along to the nearest coffee shop, not looking where you are going and get run over buy a bus. The five pound will whaft out of your hand and float onto the pavement for someone else to pick up.
You weren't expecting the five pound note. You weren't expecting the bus.
When is it that we should take note of the unexpected? The above example is flighty whimsy, but life is a tricksy bastard . . .
Imagine. I am walking down a path. There is green either side of me and the track below is made of small shale pebbles. In front of me I see a fork, behind which, both avenues look identical, although I know they will be different. I stand patient and wait for a sign. Nothing presents itself and so I start off down the right-hand path. I stop. Slowly I reverse and walk back to the fork. Staring the choice hard in the face I want for something to change. I sit on the floor and wait. Time shifts. The grass grows brown and everything moves on. The light rises and falls, descending me into darkness. Years pass; there are no signs but I continue to wait. One morning I awake, in front of the fork, and stand. My knees creak as I push myself off the floor. I look at my hands. The skin on them folds and wrinkles. I am old. My hair cascades down my back and is a blanket of coarse grey so long it trails far beyond my waist. I turn to the fork no longer angry, no longer determined; now I am only tired. I turn left. A heaviness is upon my legs that I have never felt before and it is an effort to walk down the avenue. But I do, and I continue. I just keep walking. I am too old to care about the right avenue now.
Both avenues lead to the same place.
Life is a tricksy bastard, and who knows which avenue is the right one. Ultimately, though, does it really matter?
