I don’t expect perfectionism from my students, so why should I expect perfectionism of myself? Each and every day I strive, yes I do. Each and every day, I miss the mark. Darn! It certainly is a difficult pill to swallow.
Haunted.
Maybe if I write about it in various fashion I’ll one day accept the reality that I am not perfect. Perfectionism, a personality trait I got from mom. Thanks mom, but I’m not perfect.
Imagine reading a book and when the page is turned, there is nothing else but blank pages. The previously read sentence may have been a complete thought or perhaps it ended midstream without complete thought. Imagine watching a movie and suddenly the video feed goes blank. The movie wasn’t even finished. Nothing else. One won’t know what happens next in the story and one never will.
Imagine reading a book or watching a movie through completion and realizing there will never be another book, there will never be another movie.
Only nothingness, emptiness.
I’m understanding that reality these days as it relates to life, and I’m not comforted. When life ends, it ends. There is no ‘to be continued’, no waiting until the next season, no ‘next’ chapter or sequel. There is no next, its just gone.
Did I attend the event after all? Did I leave the conversation in a good place when I left? Did I show love, and did I say ‘I love you’?
Am I ready for the unseen finality of when it does happen?
I want to have all my ducks in a row. I want to say everything I should have said, done everything I should have done, and positioned myself in the best light I possibly can for everyone involved. Complete selfish-selflessness all in place, for when it ends.
This one took me longer to write than one would think because I wanted to create powerful imagery that parallels my mind. I believe it was worth my time. Just posted under the Musings tab is an essay titled The Most Comfortable Place. Read it, and then feel it.
Just posted in Sky is an image taken yesterday. There is so much more to words and imagery than we give credit.
Just posted under the I Remember tab is an essay titled I Was Waiting for a Miracle. For me, it was a very interesting and cathartic journey in getting from point A to point B. My transformation was powerful, and was in realtime.
I capture and have thousands of these. Like fingerprints, no two are the same. For me, it’s never an easy selection on which Sky image to post because they are all so very spectacular. I’ll analyze and then analyze some more, each time narrowing down my selection, and then still cannot decide. A lot of visual scrutinization takes place until, there it is waiting patiently for me.
Just posted under the Sky tab is one such image.
Some years ago we lived on a street named Lookout Avenue. We never thought twice about the name, it was simply the name of our street. When Drew came to visit at this particular location he, in typical Drew fashion, said “I can’t figure out if the name of your street is meant to be as ‘Lookout into the beautiful scenery’… Or is is meant to be “LOOKOUT!”, as if someone was in peril?
Oh Drew!
Yes both, but not all the time. If you are a puzzle master or wordsmith perhaps you’ve figured out the title of this post. Perhaps not.
There are times when actions in life are simple or easily achieved. Conversely there are times when the task is faced with nothing but challenges and roadblocks. I think life would be boring if everything was always ‘easy’. I don’t have time for easy. Actually I do have the time for easy but I find easy to be wasted time, sometimes.
I want the challenge. I want the challenge simply because I seek the accomplishment. A life of ‘easy’ is total sleeper. A life of challenge is met with excitement and gratitude once the ‘challenge’ has been successfully accomplished. I like that.
However life is not about me.
Reflecting on life can get one to think about a lot. All that has been achieved, and all that was missed. Perhaps things and/or opportunity was intentionally passed, perhaps not. Too late.
Everything I never had, will never be.
Never be.
Loss, and fond memories hurt for a reason. Without both, people would not be whole.
Petdad 