Fate and Free Will

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!
You see,
Yes-
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.
Be there.
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.
For example;
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.
Beyond that,
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.
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,
No.
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 πŸ™‚

Broken

If I am broken
and there are only pieces of me
I will make them move in harmony
In place of melody
in sync
despite detachment
walking stride by stride
side by side
and forward
and behind
beating while the others rest
in their turn
so from without
all you would see
Is one whole piece
One whole me
not fragments
but facets of a face
the eyes the mouth the skin the sounds
of one steady beat
sounding from the breast
a chorus of parts
singing one song
forming one beat
and moving on
forward to where ever they’d go
side by side and row by row
fragmented, broken always
never to be fused again
feeling always vulnerable
and at odds
never good or clean or worthy
always from the inside broken and ashamed
but strong enough to figure out
how to move forward anyway
by leaps and bounds of faith

Orpheus On The Train

Orpheus and Eurydice Greek Mythology Original Painting

Eurydice had it good;
true love and muse of the greatest musician of the time.
Man.
Think of that courtship;
new songs and poems every night.
That would have made me fall in love with him.
Sweet.
More then the poems and songs though,
her man went to Hades and back for her.
Even death didn’t stop him from finding his way back to her,
and his way back with her-
almost.
There-in lies the tragedy:
Orpheus almost won her back. He was a step away and lost her forever.
No battle or blade could do what his music did to Hades;
the perpetual grump of the land of the dead,
music moved him and his bitter queen.
Music did what even other Gods couldn’t.
It changed death’s mind.
Almost.
Because Orpheus turned around,
didn’t he?
Right before he was going to win the greatest battle ever waged.
He’d braved the journey to the underworld,
persuaded the impersuadable,
but was too impatient to wait just one more step.
Damn.
My thoughts after I first heard the story long ago:

It’s not fair ( LOL)
Doesn’t he get any credit at all? (Yeah-right)
What about all that way he’d come?
doesn’t that count for anything? (Nope).

But it taught me something.
Faith is a treacherous journey.
It means moving on even after you’ve braved the sandstorm just to find that a mountain stands in front of you after the sands have settled. It means not giving up when you’re absolutely done and completely positive you shouldn’t have to do a lick more work,
when you know you moved that mountain but its back there in front of you again,
when you know you’ve earned the prize but are left without the slightest acknowledgement,
That is when faith must be firmest.
Orpheus’ journey is a lesson in faith.
It warns us that the most treacherous part of the journey is that last length right before the prize.
The tricky part is
that’s when we are most tired,
feel the most beaten,
and it makes the most sense to give up.
But on the train today I was inspired by the sunrise
to think of poor Orpheus and why in the world such a downer of a story would ever be told.
And I remembered,
it was a lesson.
One I needed to be reminded of.
The recesses of my mind came back with an answer to my screaming and aching cries for HELP:
It’s hardest at this moment.
This is the most horrible part.
But if you don’t get through this you’ll be back to your beginning and you’ve come too far to let fatigue and heartache win.
Let the tragedy of Orpheus teach you something.
Because to me the guy had it all;
talent the God’s worshiped and love, real, true love, that had a chance at thwarting death-
But didn’t.
I’m not judging the guy.
Who am I to call him a fool?
I’m sitting all cozy listening to his story,
how do I know how that last foot step of his felt?
I wasn’t in his shoes.
But it teaches me something.
Because it’s meant to.
That Faith is a treacherous road,
and that it gets tougher towards the end,
and despite the fatigue,
the heartache,
the fear,
and the anger we may feel at things being so difficult,
our bodies,
our hearts,
beings so exhausted,
We could loose all we’ve gained if we look back even once.
Life
Is the treacherous road,
and Faith-
It’s a forward motion.

Hurting


Hurting can do some extraordinary things. It’s effectual.
Misery.
Isolation.
All from hurting.

Siting on the wrong side of the bar and everybody elses’ smiles rip into me like nails into flesh.

Curling up and disappearing would be convenient except for the fact that I want to be seen. That’s what I want: to be seen and not suffer this indifference. I think if even one person in my life had dared to care for me it would have broken through these walls that have caged me in.
Just one.

After all the witchery,
all the bitchery,
all the prickly hard-ass show,

I’m still just a damsel in distress.

Snow Day


Today is a snow day.
Only a delay for the district in which I teach
but our town district has the full day off.
So my son gets to sleep in.
Funny, as soon as I got word that school was canceled,
I almost became my mother.
When I was a school girl she’d always wake us up to tell us we didn’t have to wake up.
I hated it.
Wasn’t that just pointless?
Let us sleep.
But I almost did it.
I almost walked into my son’s room to wake him up and tell him he had no school.
That pause and breath I took made the difference.
Today he’ll sleep late.
Without interruption.
And he’ll enjoy the entire experience of having the day off.
Starting off with uninterrupted sleep.
I’m tempted to take the day off myself.
But we can’t afford it.
So I’ll linger around the living room, perhaps take in a T.V. show or two
and then get my toosh on a later train.
Then I’ll enjoy getting the same pay for a shorter day πŸ˜‰
I love snow.