Old stories have power and ghosts weave their ethereal footsteps in and around ours. i am aware of these things – aware that they hold only as much power as we give them. Sometimes i give them far too much power in my life. Perhaps it is hubris that leads me to believe that i can simply banish them? Whether benign or malignant, they take up space in the here and now and i’d rather fill that space with shit that is important – and meaningful – to me.
It is a mistake not to acknowledge the history (those who ignore it are doomed to repeat it*, right?) but there is danger in thinking that history is destiny or that the cycle we’ve grown accustomed to must be repeated. Who holds the pen in this draft of my life? i do. Are there finite pages? Yes. Are there margins to those pages? Absolutely. Do i have limited time and energy and resources in this go’round? You betcha. Still, i find myself tip-toeing around my phantoms and the apparitions with whom others travel. It makes writing my own story more difficult. These ghosts are useless characters… generally antagonists, and who needs MORE antagonists in their life? i’d like to write them out of my script or at least make them footnotes.
i write this story. It is my story.
You, dear reader, write yours.
Sometimes, we get to co-author a chapter and that’s a special kind of wonderful.
So, if on occasion, i slip into old habits, i dust myself off and redirect… i reboot my life… and i try to love and forgive myself for the slips. i am capable of all manner of mistaken behavior, but i try to eliminate as much misbehavior as i can from my life.
And i smile when i hear people say, it was the “devil” that made them do it, or it “must have been a full moon” because, let’s face it… it’s all us 😉
As i readied for sleep last night, i thought of necks rich with life’s blood and lips that carry sweet release. i laid in my little house beneath the stars and the moon and the entirety of all that was up there in the nothingness and everythingness. There, i shared the most wonderful orgasm with the sky.
Blame it on the moon? Of course not… La Luna was simply an easy tongue-in-cheek excuse for delicious flirtation.
And no, the devil didn’t make me do shit.
*George Santayana (1863-1952): “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
*Edmund Burke (1729-1797): “Those who don’t know history are destined to repeat it.”