Have you ever felt like life is a whirring, spinning plate, and you’re sitting in the hands of your fate, not really realizing what’s going on, constantly feeling dizzy and a little nauseous? Me too.
I don’t exactly know what has changed, but I can feel that life has spun me around to the other side of the globe. I’ve taken looks at myself in the mirror, and jumped at the sight of…me? Sometimes our family member, le chat, will do the same thing when her eyes capture sight of her majestic, furry splendor. Her head snatches to the side and her eyes open wide.
And I can’t say when it was that it happened, a change so singular that I can no longer recognize me.
Before moving, I relied on friends for navigation, but when those friends are scattered around the world like finely powdered sugar, who do I rely on for dictation? I suppose that all that is left is me. But how could I possibly rely on myself when I have not a clue about how to read the navigator?
Perhaps it’s okay to yield to change, and to feel a little bit lost. Maybe we’re all voyaging in a haphazard fashion (in Finnish, I would say “epämääräistä sohimista” which translates to indefinite poking around). In this case, humans must orient their navigator pins to point towards themselves, for that is all the direction in life that they’ll ever have. Therefore, I must not worry about the trip ahead, but rather prepare myself in a way that the trip won’t be so full of dread.
Uncertainty is suffering, but I can at least cushion myself with pillows of royal comfort for the uncertain travels. Specifically red silk pillows.
I suppose that you are after all the only pinned point on the map of life, so build a wondrous world for you.
If only I could get a packet of pills for motion sickness.