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The Horizons Of Our Lives: A Moment With Bill Reflection
From the Beginning of Our Days
“One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.”
The horizons stretch before us, dazzling with possibilities, frightening with misgivings.
So much to see, so much to experience, so much to capture, ensnare, and make our own.
Wealthy the person who knows his own flight, the traveler who travels the length of his light, comfortable in his own skin and sure of each step, tossing aside doubts and boldly moving forward in eager anticipation of the next miraculous experience.
We begin with such hopes, such aspirations, such assuredness of success, first a crawl, then the initial awkward steps, then full gallop we go towards that light. We stumble, we bumble, we fall, rise, fall and rise again, never detoured, never discouraged, a constant dance of celebration as we forge a path of our own in this confusing, jumbled mess called life.
There is not a shred of doubt in those early years. Cheered on by loved ones, told of our unlimited potential, we push forward and upward, hanging just below the heavens and hovering far above hell. We are our own beacon to follow, a blinding light of hope, fueled by dreams and clueless of what lay ahead, a blissful ignorance with a time-stamped expiration date.
Follow the poets, follow the sages, follow the wisdom of the ages and stay with the quest as long as you can, for changes will happen, the fulcrum will shift, and the realities of old will take on a darker hue as the years progress.
Muted Colors Appear
Choices are many and paths to take seemingly unlimited in number as we progress in life. Smooth paths, rocky paths, broken paths and dangerous paths, all awaiting us, all calling us, all offering rewards, thrills, chills and spills, like the carnival barker selling hopes and dreams to the unsuspecting fairgoers with coins in their pockets.
Pay the price for those choices; there are no free rides on this journey, for each choice demands payment and payment is due upon receipt. Some payments are easy; some last a lifetime; all change us in some way, and each change transforms further until we morph into something unrecognizable when compared to those earlier years.
Like steel in a forge we are hardened, like copper in a forge we are bent, and we come to realize that the storybook endings we once believed in never will appear, that they were just someone’s way of guiding us here, here to this place of doubt and hesitancy, fear and paralysis.
We wait for wisdom but it does not arrive. We wait for guidance, but what is guidance but the random musings of other travelers following their own paths. We wait, and we move forward slowly now, much more slowly, and we hope that the path, once so bright, will find illumination from some source soon.
We reason carefully, we search to no avail, somewhere there must be a constant in this maelstrom, a calm harbor in this raging sea, but the best we can hope for are a few uninterrupted hours of blessed sleep before the muted light of sun begins another day, and another, and another.
Storm clouds are forming, warm fronts and cold fronts joining to produce hell-bent fury where once calm skies were the norm. Tearful doubts now, our vision blurred and our eyes burning, so many emotions pour from pores as yearnings remain unanswered and we would pay a king’s ransom for those innocent years.
And we stand upon the edge, the fall one step beyond, and we raise our eyes to the heavens in search of answers, clues, just one damn inkling of what to do; and we cry in our sleep, tossing and turning, turning and tossing, all to no avail…..but then….
Then it comes, silently at first, a mere shadow, a spectral veil, fluttering on the periphery, almost too feint for us to notice, just a glimpse, just a hint of an answer, and we reach out with shaky fingers hoping to grasp it, hoping to grab hold as a drowning man snatches at the flotsam of a shipwreck.
Naked for all to see, stripped bare of pretense and finally, finally teachable, we look within for the answers that always awaited us.
The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter
Our hearts become the vessels that will carry us to that distant light. Our hearts will illuminate the darkness and our hearts will slay the shadows that for so long have darkened the only path of any hope.
Yes we look within, and in so doing we discover that which has always been and always will be….the truth. Wisdom unlocks the cage. Compassion generates new hope. Empathy paves over the chuckholes and love lights the way.
Love lights the way!
It comes to all in time, special delivery or parcel post, it makes no difference the means of delivery, only that delivery does come, and when it comes it will leave you breathless, leave you satiated and heal those wounds inflicted on the broken paths.
There is no time schedule for its arrival, and attempts to force it are sure to fail, for love has its own rhythm, love has its own pace and love cannot be had for free. The price tag for love is living; the reward for living well is love; this is the riddle that must be solved in order to end the freefall that began so long ago.
Love lights the way!
And We Begin Again
The horizons stretch before us, dazzling with possibilities but no longer frightening with misgivings, for love casts away those misgivings and leaves us with self-assurance and a trust in the natural flow of life. We are not alone with love. We never again have to face uncertainties in solitude. Choices become simpler and paths that were once strewn with boulders of doubt now show no impediments to our journey.
The carnival barkers will still bark their old song, tempting, cajoling, weaving lies with a pinch of truth, but we will now shake our heads and laugh at the folly of it all, for we have found the truth and it has nothing to do with two-headed ladies and fire-eating contortionists.
Such is life. From those early steps of childhood to the inevitable rattle of our breath as the final darkness falls, love is the light. It can never be extinguished, not as long as we are willing to accept it and, in return, give it.
The great floods of the past dug canyons, scoured landscapes and moved immovable objects, leaving behind a landscape that barely resembled that which once was. Such is life. We learn to flow with it. We learn to become one with it. We learn to hang on tight, ride its fury and rejoice when the energy is spent and the calm descends.
Our vessel on that journey is love.
2013 William D. Holland (aka billybuc)
Dedicated to my good friend Ruby!