Bookmark #570

When I woke up this morning, I had an incredible thought. It was a perfect beginning to a perfect piece. More often than not, you only need a beginning. The rest follows in writing, and in life. But then, I made coffee and spent a little too much on deciding which coffee to choose, scrambling for tissues since I woke up with a runny nose, and then, I got a phone call, and then I ran out of electricity and had to get that sorted out over the phone; slowly, but surely, I lost the thought, and I sat and tried to recall it, but it was nowhere to be found. Now, this day and this piece have been robbed of their perfect beginning. Instead, there is this messy concerto of all the things that can happen to people in the morning.

But then, even if you only need a beginning, there is still much you can do in between when things go as they go. Even though you only need a beginning, we must accept most beginnings are messy, and they have little to say about what happens later. At least, we must believe that, we must believe that so all lives must make sense, and so we have a reason to go out in the world and do what we do. If all beginnings had any say over how things will go, most people should just give up on life, but we do not do that here. We go forward with hope in our hearts and some agency in our hands. “There is still something I can do about it” is the only thing that separates humans from everyone else. Even if our beginnings dictate far too much about what happens to us, we tend to believe. We believe we can change things, and as it turns out, we do. History is a testament to this, and our world is the spitting image of this hope.

Perhaps, that is it. Perhaps, this piece can still be saved, and now that I think of it, so can this day. It may be a bit late, but it is still early in the grand scheme of the day. It is almost always still early. There is so much that can happen still.

// if you want to support this walk to nowhere, you can pitch in here