Macrame, musings, that’s life,
20190912 00115d 3 minutes
Will my life ever get sorted out?
Will I ever get caught up?
There are so many threads to the braid of my life and all should be working down evenly. But they’re not. Some threads are thick and bright, textured and exciting. Some are dull and background, dependable, unexciting but necessary. Others as light as gossamer, fragile, ephemeral.
Can we ever communicate our feelings to any one else? Why do we concentrate on certain threads and not others? Why are some threads more important at one time while at others they mean nothing? Why threads that are important to others have no meaning for us?
There are so very many wonderful things in this world to do, enjoy, make – threads that are colorful, textured and scintillating. Every five minutes we spend tells what is important to us. If we stay late at the office, study for exams, spend time at the beach, train for a marathon or watch television and eat fancy foods and gain weight, everything tells if our fears are stronger than our joys, our disciplines stronger than our desires. We make decisions all the time, every moment of our lives.
But if we are influenced by our family settings, our physical makeup and genetics, our education, the society and time we live in, and our emotional chemistry, do we really have choice over the decisions we make? We believe we have been given free will to choose what we do, but I wonder how free that will really is.
I don’t like housework and seldom do it. Is that because I am rebelling against my up-bringing, or because I truly believe other things are more important, or am I simply subscribing to the “motive to avoid success” that women of my generation were so successfully socialized into?
Eventually I will catch up with myself, three weeks after they have thrown the last sod and the bulldozers have been brought in and have finished their work!
By then, someone will have organized the threads to the braid of my life and the picture will be discernable.
Until then, oh well, my house may occasionally be tidy and clean, but usually I’ll find all the other exciting threads to prevent me from getting mired down in the drudgery of housework. And when they will be allowed to throw the last sod, I don’t know. I don’t have time to think of dying. There’s just too much that is exciting and rewarding to do before I get that far…