C'Est La Vie
C'Est La Vie. That is life.
But what is life if not what you make of it? A beggar may not have chosen to be a beggar. He may not have chosen to be homeless, or hungry, or lonely, but if he chooses to look at life in a manner which may seem fitting of a beggar, then it is indeed his fault that his life seem so dreary. And yet, does this mean that whatever life hands us we must take gratefully with a cheery smile and garble up like Aunt Shirley's cherry pie? Must everything be so definate?
It seems that in this generation, in this century, we have accomplished so much more than human kind was initially gifted. We can travel from one side of the world to the other in a matter of mere hours. The deepest depths of the sea are no longer known only in myth and legend. It is possible to, quite literally, raise the dead. Why then, can we not decide our own futures? Must fate have a constant hold on our happiness? It as if destiny himself sees that we are happy, and with a drop of his little magical potion of Chance sends down some woeful thing that sends our uplifted spirits crashing down to earth again. A constant reminder that we are mortal.
An ancient Chinese proverb says that a butterfly flapping its wings can cause a tornado on the other side of the world. Quite the metaphor, but ultimately true. Everything in the world effects everything else, down to the smallest infant who has just been granted life. The world is a game of dominos, and when one piece falls, it takes down the others with it. Sometimes, though, if the spacing it just right, one little domino will withstand the corruption. If its very lucky, it will be tapped in the back, and you can watch it stand there and teeter, like a person on the edge of a very high cliff, not knowing if they will fall of remain strong. Lately, I feel like that one lucky domino. I am constantly baraged from behind by evil and sorrowful events, by malicious and illcontented people, and though I try not to falter, though I resist with all my might, all I can do is stand there and wobble, and hope and pray with every fiber of my being that this will not be the domino that takes me down.
I had a dream, once... once. Once seems like a very long time ago. Once, I knew what i wanted out of life. Once, I knew exactly who I was. Now, the only thing I know for sure is that I don't know anything. I am goalless, empty, forgotten. Those who I once knew have moved beyond me, and leave me standing behind in our memories, wishing that they would return. Those who I love I have tricked myself into believing that I also trust, and in turn have done nothing but caused myself grief and worry. Perhaps my expectations are too high. Perhaps I am so accustomed to being worshiped and adored that now that I am not, I have lost myself. Do I ask for too much? I feel as though I give and give relentlessly and get nothing in return. I put the coin in the slot but no prize is given.
Here in Missouri, where the people are unforgiving and cruel, I no longer have the confidence in myself to even step out the door. I rise and face with a "lets this over with" attitude and manage to squeak by. When it is time, I get back in the saddle, but my heart is no longer in it like it once was. Moreover, I do not have the One beside me who is my world, and so how can I know where I am if I can not even have the earth to which I belong? I feel I am utterly alone, and that is the greatest tragedy of all. Perhaps it would be best if I shrivel up and disappear, but then I would be admitting defeat to all those dominos behind me, as well as destroying those happy ones who stand before me. Defeat, though an easy answer, is not the right one.
But what is life if not what you make of it? A beggar may not have chosen to be a beggar. He may not have chosen to be homeless, or hungry, or lonely, but if he chooses to look at life in a manner which may seem fitting of a beggar, then it is indeed his fault that his life seem so dreary. And yet, does this mean that whatever life hands us we must take gratefully with a cheery smile and garble up like Aunt Shirley's cherry pie? Must everything be so definate?
It seems that in this generation, in this century, we have accomplished so much more than human kind was initially gifted. We can travel from one side of the world to the other in a matter of mere hours. The deepest depths of the sea are no longer known only in myth and legend. It is possible to, quite literally, raise the dead. Why then, can we not decide our own futures? Must fate have a constant hold on our happiness? It as if destiny himself sees that we are happy, and with a drop of his little magical potion of Chance sends down some woeful thing that sends our uplifted spirits crashing down to earth again. A constant reminder that we are mortal.
An ancient Chinese proverb says that a butterfly flapping its wings can cause a tornado on the other side of the world. Quite the metaphor, but ultimately true. Everything in the world effects everything else, down to the smallest infant who has just been granted life. The world is a game of dominos, and when one piece falls, it takes down the others with it. Sometimes, though, if the spacing it just right, one little domino will withstand the corruption. If its very lucky, it will be tapped in the back, and you can watch it stand there and teeter, like a person on the edge of a very high cliff, not knowing if they will fall of remain strong. Lately, I feel like that one lucky domino. I am constantly baraged from behind by evil and sorrowful events, by malicious and illcontented people, and though I try not to falter, though I resist with all my might, all I can do is stand there and wobble, and hope and pray with every fiber of my being that this will not be the domino that takes me down.
I had a dream, once... once. Once seems like a very long time ago. Once, I knew what i wanted out of life. Once, I knew exactly who I was. Now, the only thing I know for sure is that I don't know anything. I am goalless, empty, forgotten. Those who I once knew have moved beyond me, and leave me standing behind in our memories, wishing that they would return. Those who I love I have tricked myself into believing that I also trust, and in turn have done nothing but caused myself grief and worry. Perhaps my expectations are too high. Perhaps I am so accustomed to being worshiped and adored that now that I am not, I have lost myself. Do I ask for too much? I feel as though I give and give relentlessly and get nothing in return. I put the coin in the slot but no prize is given.
Here in Missouri, where the people are unforgiving and cruel, I no longer have the confidence in myself to even step out the door. I rise and face with a "lets this over with" attitude and manage to squeak by. When it is time, I get back in the saddle, but my heart is no longer in it like it once was. Moreover, I do not have the One beside me who is my world, and so how can I know where I am if I can not even have the earth to which I belong? I feel I am utterly alone, and that is the greatest tragedy of all. Perhaps it would be best if I shrivel up and disappear, but then I would be admitting defeat to all those dominos behind me, as well as destroying those happy ones who stand before me. Defeat, though an easy answer, is not the right one.