How can fate and free will co-exist?
Let me explain.
I recently had a conversation about my relationship with my son’s father.
And it made me remember another conversation I’d had about my relationship with my son’s father.
This most recent conversation ended something like,
“yes, but you got your son out of it, so that’s something to be thankful for”
That’s true. Can’t argue that my son is the most awesome blessing EVER!
But the conversation I had many years ago (with a different person) went more like this:
“Your son was meant to be in this world, and you and your son’s father had to meet in order
to bring him into this world, beyond that you were just holding on to someone who’d already
served their purpose in your life because you have a problem with letting go”.
AMEN TO THAT!
My son’s father and I were supposed to be together so Douglas could be made
but that took all of four hours one night in October of 1999.
Beyond that my son being brought into this world had nothing to do with me hanging on to his
father for the next ten years.
That was entirely about me not loving myself.
And that’s when it hit me.
Fate and free can, do and were always MEANT to coexist because fate isn’t happening all the time.
It’s like check points on the road map of your life.
a road map you design,
all except for the check points.
Those check points are Fate, when the universe, the lord, the Gods, or whom ever, is saying
HEY! There’s a bigger picture than you going on here and we need you for something at this moment.
Anything that happens to us between those check points is our fuckin’ business.
God doesn’t even CARE!
Everyone who’s had a shitty boss knows,
Only Satan micromanages!
God gave us free will to keep us the fuck out of his way until he needs us to get something done.
He doesn’t want us hanging around like sick puppies getting in his way.
And when I speak of God using “He” please realize that I only use this as a pronoun to represent a much larger idea. Insert any pronoun of your choice- she, it, THEY-
it doesn’t fucking matter anyway.
God is WAY bigger than pronouns.
But I digress.
The only time God, or the universe, is judging our behavior is when it’s asked something of us,
a contribution to the larger picture that it needs us to contribute to,
that it, he, she, they will pass judgement for us not getting done.
God doesn’t care how often you get high.
You can get high any damn day, every day, if you’d like.
But on that day you were supposed to arrive at your check point (Fate),
you better not be on your ass, on your couch gettin’ high.
THAT’S when you find your weed laced with some bad shit and your ass ends up in a hospital somewhere.
And so, hopefully, you learn a lesson.
Serve your purpose.
I don’t think the signs are all that subtle.
We all know when we’re being pulled in a certain direction.
We just don’t always listen to it.
That’s why, I’m sure, God makes back up plans.
Like some where out there at least 5,000 people are going to be tapped to conceive the second coming or the next Dalai Lama or some shit like that,
but because of how often us humans fuck up I’m sure only two are gonna get it right.
Fate has back up plans because of our inconsistencies.
God’s sort of laying ground for any number of possibilities and the one that plays out is the one
that worked the best for what God saw at that time, based upon what we gave him to work with.
If we didn’t show up at our check point, God has plenty of understudies.
The show must go on.
In other words, the people who listen to their fate are the ones that arrive at just the right time.
Stay in tune.
The signs are there.
They were with my son.
I actually could feel myself being exactly where I was supposed to be.
And for days prior, every time I looked around a street corner, I would SEE his father’s truck coming around that corner, even though I knew he was miles away in Florida.
Ever door I walked through I expected him to be on the other side.
I knew he was coming.
It was supposed to happen.
And so it did.
And my son got his right to life.
We served our purpose for the higher purpose.
it was just me wasting my own time.
Doug was meant to be.
His father and I were not.
And I dug my self a hole by walking in circles around that damn check point.
True, I may have needed to learn a lesson at that check point that I’d have to know to arrive
at my next check point.
But there is NO WAY God determined that it was supposed to take me ten years to learn it.
I don’t think God, if he had time to think about it, wants anymore misery in the world then need be.
He, I’m sure, would have been quite content to have me learn my lesson in say, oh, five months, move
on and have myself a blast for the following nine years and seven months. As long as I arrived at my next check point (Fate) when I was supposed to, he didn’t dictate my suffering.
I did that to myself.
Because I couldn’t let go.
So the next time somebody says to me,
but at least you got your son out of it,
I will confidently respond,
I got my son out of four hours, one night.
The other nine years, eleven months, thirty days and 20 hours,
was about me being a complete dumb ass.
Hopefully now though,
I’m ready for my next check point 🙂