Square 1

Do you ever feel like you're treading water, riding a train around the same track, having a groudhog day - life?  Do you ever wonder if all those sunrises and sunsets, seasons, and trips around the sun, all those circles, are the only way the world works? Is there a straight line if we look for it; an ordained path we are supposed to take to get us "somewhere?" A here to there? A preordained goal to strive for?

Or, is it more about the way we go around and around. The ambiance of the journey. About how we travel ... with love or fear, joy or sadness, excitement or dread. The circle carries us along, whether we want to go or not, but it does seem we are free to chose the how.

Square 1

I spend a lot of time on square 1.

Sitting on it.

Walking around it.

Running from it.

Trying to get to square 2 … or 100.

But I think the game is rigged.

No matter how hard I try –

I realize at some point,

            that I’m here … again.

This circling is annoying and frustrating.

Like trying to push a too-big boulder up a hill.

What is it that’s so magnetic about this beginning point?

That makes it seem like all roads lead back to it?

I read sages and prophets and saints and kings.

They all have their high holy hills …

But when I leave them? I roll right back here ...

Maybe I have to build my own hill right where I am.

I can bring back a stone or two from my travels (no one will notice)

and begin construction. I may already have a few foundation stones.

Let me check my pockets:

Hmm. Bibles and Torahs; words and words. And the lives of saints.

And the foibles of disciples. And books upon books of thoughts.

(They don’t take up too much room, even though they are enormous.)

Opinions – lots of opinions …

Hard ones, soft ones, ones that form little circles of doubt.

Viewpoints – lots of those too. They are often connected by timelines;

forming a thread with multicolor beads marking centuries.

Pretty. Interesting.

Faith statements. About the universe, beginnings and endings (Alphas and

Omegas if you will.) Wrapped in passion and energy and hope – or hopelessness.

Poetry – I like the poetry. There’s room in there to spin around and sing.

Images – of life and death and all things in between.

Grand and glorious cities. Self-sacrificing givers. Trees of life … snakes and

gardens, floods and rainbows – crosses and resurrection.

Music – pipe organs and flutes, guitars and tambourines and drums,

mandolins and violins and voices … how magnificent!

Laughter – it’s flimsy, but beautiful and decorates the hall.

I have a lot to choose from.

I should get on with it.

I can’t just sit in this depression forever and not create something of my own.