It’s the day before New Year’s Eve, 2017. I find
myself being reflective. I’m
struggling to find direction. I have purpose, I just can’t find direction. Terry Pratchett, an English author once wrote
in his book I Shall Wear Midnight , ‘If you
do not know where you
come from, then you
don't know where you
are, and if you
don't know where you
are, then you
don't know where you're
going. And if you
don't know where you're
going, you're
probably going wrong.’
This kind of circular thought is counterproductive
and to my mind, obsequious and a little bit disturbing. I am once again in Oman.
I previously left Oman, only to return here. My whole life is
just like watching a movie called The Big Picture, only I’ve arrived to watch
it ten minutes after the movie started and now no-body will tell me the plot. I have to work it all out myself using those dastardly
frustratingly illuminating clues. Clues that are sometimes small imperceptible nuances
from my life story sandwiched in between those excruciating rewritten lines of The
Big Picture. The action of scribbling my thoughts down provides a beginning, a
middle and an end product, a commentary for my jumbled up thoughts. I do write
better in the silence and the desert provides few distractions. Besides, I
cannot start whining at this stage of my life. It will take too long and I won’t
have any time for life left. Surely all of us hope for a little distractive
redemption, whether we deserve it or not.
I hope good things are on their way this year of
2018. Although life has circled back upon itself I feel the journey has been
fruitful. My Chair that I previously wrote about in this blog, called Night
Ramblings, mocks me. I know now though, where
it is, just not how to get there. I’ve caught a glimpse of the plot, perhaps a
gift delivered to me by virtue of my greying hair and ever-deepening wrinkles. My
Chair has a tremendous sense of gravity, a kind of ever-present heaviness, an
awareness that I have not reached my destination or my purpose yet. The neon flicking
signs firmly planted along my path show ABUNDANCE FRUITFULNESS FERTILITY. Well,
anyone can rise if they have enough yeast. The quiet nuances are also not silent
if you have an open mind. The trouble with having an open mind is that people
are always trying to put things in it: stuffing it up like a pork sausage. I
think sometimes, one has to turn the facts around in several directions before
finding the perfect fit. After all, the path to your own story does, in fact,
start with a small step. If you don’t write down your own story you become part
of someone else’s life story. My Chair will never allow that!
