Thursday, April 21, 2011

Greetings From The Revolving Door

The utter absence of congratulations went unnoticed - even here (and if I am not going to pay attention to such well-delineated markings of time then who shall) - and with good reason.  Nothing missed, nothing mourned.  It in fact only occurred to this morning that Tuesday past (two days ago) marked the completion of the third lap around the Sun that I have taken while penning the rants, the gripes and the abject silliness that appears here daily.  A lot of water has passed under this fool's ship since then but how much further on I am along in the stream remains an open question.  It all depends on the current I suppose.

Perhaps soil through a plow's blade is a better metaphor?  It is at least topically similar to the allegedly pithy observation that started this particular snowball rolling downhill on an April Saturday approximately three years ago.  Much has happened to those I love and to me in the interim.  Some of it has been very good.  Some of it has been heartrendingly sad.  Such is the way of the world.  Such is life.  Any undertaking into which you enter unable to care for yourself and - depending upon your age and your overall well-being immediately prior to your death - from which you may depart in precisely the same manner is one in which the odds are against you.  Talk about a joint in which it is tough to bet against the House.  There is none tougher. 

There have been moments over the course of these past three years where my life has seemed to so closely approximate that of the man in Rodney Atkins' song that I swear I can smell the smell of freshly-cut grass everywhere and on everything.  There have also been moments where my life has seemed so far removed from his take on Utopia that the smell of freshly-laid macadam permeates everything.  An unusual experience?  Hardly.  Unique to me?  Absolutely.  As yours is to you.  And so on and so on and so on.

And through it all we continue to matriculate the ball down the field as it were.  We continue to make the most that we can out of the life that we lead and give all that we can to those who we love and who love us.  At day's end, whether we achieve success in that pursuit I know not.  I could not even begin to guess how one might measure "success" although I suspect that it is a flexible measurement.  It is something that is personal to each of us.  It is something that in our life perhaps only we can see.  It is something that perhaps we forever pursue but never achieve.  There is no inalienable right to happiness after all but merely to its pursuit.

And perhaps the joy is intended to be found in the hunt itself.  It is that which fuels us, which motivates us and which carries us forward through good times and bad.  The never-ending pursuit of happiness. 

It is enough to put a smile on the face of a walking dog.  And if that cannot make you happy,  then you are just not trying as hard as you could be.


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