Pity the Fool

It's one of those days again. You know the kind... full of chocolate and self-pity. I'm looking around and trying to figure out what I've done and what I'm doing. My current responsibilities are so different from my list of "life dreams" that I don't even know what my goals are these days.

Yes, I've been to enough psychoanalysis to know that I don't know what my goals are because I don't have any. And the truth of that is more than a little frightening. I wake up in the morning and set the same goal: get through the day as successfully as possible. But this goal is meaningless because I don't have a definition of success and the daily goal is not related to a long term goal. Because (wait for it!) I don't have a long term goal.

In general terms, I can say that I want to raise my kids, be happy in my marriage, be satisfied personally. But those general things are entirely too vague to be considered goals. They are... intentions. It's very much like taking a test without a grading system - no way to judge the current standing and/or progress over time.

I did have goals, a long time ago. And the blunt end of truth is that I have avoided creating new goals. I have failed to achieve a lot of major goals and that failure hurts. Deeply. That hurt has discouraged me from seeking new goals.

Tonight is one of those nights that I look around and simply cannot believe that I did not graduate from college. But right now, pursuing that goal isn't terribly practical.

I could revise the past and say that my dreams were to be the "voice of reason" amid the chaos, that practicality feeds my soul. But that would be a lie. I'd like to think that at the very least I'm good at practicality, but I'm not so sure that's the truth.

Self-pity is an ugly thing so I try not to dip into it too often. Today is a weak day.

Garish, Loud

When I moved into my house I looked at the bare, white walls and cream colored carpet and felt garish. I was too loud for such a place;
I needed deep, dark, star-lit sky to cushion my being for the world.
At this house I can wander outside any time of day or night and be confronted with light chasing away the darkness:
The yellow cast of decorative street lamps take over for the fading sun and deceive the birds into believing that midnight is dawn.
I am often kept awake by the sound of early morning birds confused by human intervention. I toss seeds onto the sidewalk every now and again in reparation.
At this house I learned to live without grass growing under my bare feet; I hated every moment of it. I compromised with climbing vines reaching green leaves and colored blooms into the sky.
I have grass now in that small plot of dry dirt but I have to choose to remember to take off my shoes.
At this house I let go of my more flagrant choices and focused on the colors of the earth in deep season: forest green of summer, midnight blue, grey clouded days.
I feel more comfortable in this subtlety though the white starkness has given way to gentle colors and purposeful decor.
At this house I took time to grow with direct intention, following the graceful example of the house itself. Here I will learn to dance with time, lovingly and honestly. I have wrapped myself in the safety of a moonlit night.