And so we start over. Over and over again. New home, new things, new people and what of the old. The former. What do we do with them. File, forget, frame? A little running tally of the people we touched, hurt, humored and waited for. All the actions sitting in a waste bin tidy on top of each, dusty from neglect and creating an odorous fog around the memories. Scars fade with the memory but the fall from grace is perpetual. It's windy here - falling.
Grace? of god? of self? of society? All of em'. Spirituality would teach us of quietude and acceptance. Religion would indict us all for our moral shortcomings. A highly structured guide to code all the ways we have devalued existence. The grace of self may be a fallacy and that notion may be a cop out. Societies graces are finicky and fleeting. If we sit around and wait for grace to come to us we will live in shadows forever.
In starting over literally and figuratively we let out all the old air and hope that be changing our physical location some new air will find us. It's the same air everywhere. Your enemies and lovers breath the same. What we really seek is to depose the tyrant of self that continually convinces us of our inability to be perfect and history of failure. Samuel Beckett "Fail again. Fail Better." Sign me up.
