My son is getting married this week. He lives in Florida, but he and his fiancee decided to come back here for the wedding. I'm grateful.
My car has decided to be cantankerous. Sometimes it starts. Sometimes not. I can't say I'm totally happy, but I have had the opportunity to get some exercise.
The power supply for the lamphouse at the theatre stopped functioning. In the process it took out a breaker box with it. We haven't shown a full schedule for three weeks. Frustrating? Yes. I didn't realize how much I look forward to providing entertainment and memories to our patrons until I wasn't able to do so. On the plus side of things, we're going to get a new power supply after working with a 30 year old piece of equipment.
A month ago I developed the symptoms of one of the viruses that is making its way around this year. As I told Lady Glynis, I hadn't felt that sick for 25 years.
Stressful? Yes. Beyond that, I'm trying to see what I can learn from all this, what it shows about me, my self-imposed limits, and the possibilities to come. This time is the fruit of past decisions, and at the same time the opening movement of the future.
Our lives move in cycles and steps. Our choices lead us from one movement to another with a seeming fatal logic, but always as a result of our choices. Events move like a stream, lazing along until the banks bend in toward one another, funneling the waters faster and faster until they rush, white capped and eddied, with hidden currents lying in wait to drag you down if you make the wrong turn and rocks upon which we can be dashed, until the cataract ends and once more the stream flows smoothly. Our decisions are transit points, leading us from who we were to who we will be, guiding the dance to the future.
In many ways, I'm enjoying this cataract. Who couldn't find joy in their child's marriage to the person they love? And even at their worst, we all are drawn in some way to the dramas we draw into our lives. But - at the same time I'll be glad to leave this cataract behind. I look forward to the new movement it heralds.
Will I stand taller? Will I live with eyes open that little bit more? Or will I draw the shades and huddle in upon myself? I have a choice.
As Peter Banning said in Hook
To live... to live would be an awfully big adventure.