If tomorrow, as seems increasingly likely given the state of the bicycle I was contemplating riding to work, I slide across the road and under a bus, my life might be over.
The thing to focus on, though, is that my life is not over, not now it isn't. My life wasn't over when my husband died, and it hasn't been over with any injury, illness, set back or mishap. Nothing within human experience seems to be unendurable.
Do we ever really long for an even, steady state existence? Do we ever wish that changes would stop taking place? From the outside, sometimes I think I have friends and relations who somehow do live the steady state life, work where the tasks and people are the same, the same home and home life. Do they get bored, do you suppose?
If things do get steady state, I suspect I sub consciously scupper things to create variation, find faults where there are none, find reasons to make things different. Now I have a job, you know, one of those things where you get up, put on the regulation clothing, step out the door at the regulation time, arrive in time for the regulation coffee and go home at the regulation time. Repeat ad infinitum. So, now change is confined to my leisure time. What I do after work, what I do at weekends, but there's limited room for manoeuvre.
Open University crowds out a couple of evenings a week, sometimes more as assignments loom, bike riding takes up the weekends, as of course it should, and joyfully until Easter, I have a Tuesday night local council run bike maintenance course to attend.
But I crave change, and something has to relinquish itself to my storm. I think it's going to be the house this time, the house, my house, our house, my home. It's lovely but it's in the wrong place. And as changes go, it would be a positive one. Endurable indeed.
But sometimes folk don't return from the mountain.
No comments:
Post a Comment