“The Cosmos is all that is or ever was or ever will be”.
I have, at times, heard a theory knocked around, in interviews with musicians, mathematicians, or by the great minds that used to hang in my my living room at Shannon St, that all the knowledge and experience that ever was, or ever ever will be, is accessible and waiting to be accessed by us, or the universe – or something. (Wait, don’t go yet, hold on). I’ve read it and seen it batted around in books like The Celestine Prophecy, or the Way of the Peaceful Warrior, or The Alchemist – or even in Slaughterhouse Five.
In fact as I sat down to read this, I was thinking how terribly Tralfamadorian my thinking is tonight. Or maybe it’s just the opposite of it. (I know three people just clicked back to their Facebook tab, sorry).
So it goes.
Alright, so here’s the thing, I mentioned earlier this week, my thoughts about change and possibility – and about what is waiting just around the corner – And while earlier this week, this change in myself was feeling empowering, and world revealing, the last few days it’s been feeling paralyzing.
A friend said, “that’s because there is no perfect choice”.
So – when I get paralyzed, I try desperately to feel, deeply dig into, the path that I am supposed to be on. I look for signs, or the well-marked trail. While I was at lunch Thursday with a friend, and talking about the possibility of a new grad program, a purple PT drove by, just like Pops’ first. And I want to be beyond this kind of superstition, to not see it as a yes or no kind of answer, but, an “it’s okay TJ, I’m on this path with you,” shout-out. But, by the end of our afternoon out together, I had seen and pointed out four more PT’s, a car, by the way, they don’t make any more.
At therapy on Friday, there was a cardinal couple on the back porch, oh wait, I haven’t told you that story – and as this story is terribly inside out already, I’ll save that one for another time.
Thing is, I’m the kind of person who perseverates on a menu at a new restaurant so terribly, that I’m having a near panic attack by the time the server gets there. Seriously, I’m afraid of making the wrong meal choice, so tied up as I am, in being right, and doing right. Of course looking back, I can’t tell you the name of any dish I ever missed out on, or any dish that I did choose that ruined my night.
Sure, I’m not talking the kind of life path stuff here, that costs twenty-two bucks, and comes with a salad, or is over in a couple of bites, or ever able to be sent back to the kitchen. But why is it, that life choices feel so paralyzing – and why isn’t it, if that all the knowledge or experience that ever was or ever will be is available and accessible, I can’t get my hands on it.
So it goes.