Monday, July 8, 2013

Flashing back. And forward.

Two years ago this month my life took a hard right turn, the end result of which was an entirely new perspective on how, and why, life is meant to be lived.  

A large factor in that perspective change came as a result of this trip, these people, that place:

The combined richness of that experience, those souls, and that landscape affected me indelibly, changed how I fundamentally perceive and interact with the world.  And I don't mean because now I often have a paddle in my hands.

A few weeks ago my life took another hard turn.  Staring down the barrel of a .45 pointed by an irrational, implacable human left me shaken, questioning, uncertain.  

All of the above still apply--perhaps even more now.

In the wake I've spent as much time as possible with old, good friends--the kind that have known me long enough to see and maybe even understand the change that happens too slowly to notice myself.  

I've pondered and brooded--much more than normal if you can believe that--and have asked hard questions of myself.  Largely, I haven't liked the answers.

Not to say that many answers have surfaced just yet.  Introspection on this level, I'm learning, happens as a process and without a set schedule.

I spent a good chunk of time in the mountains last weekend, sifting through and sorting things out.  

It seemed natural, even right, to return to the place where I best knew whom I was, what I wanted, and where I was heading, even if none of the above answers apply today.  

Maybe especially if.

Thus far the only certainty is that I need more time to sort out the chaos and uncertainty that reign.  

I can't help but to read it metaphorically.

New perspectives don't develop overnight.  Looked at the wrong way, that's a blanket statement that really says nothing.  To me, now, it says everything.