Along For The Ride

I wanted to name this blog "Along For The Ride." It's a sentiment that haunts me of late. But, alas, the name was taken already. This post will have to suffice, much to my chagrin.

Why, might you ask, is this concept frequently in my thoughts of late? Perhaps it's the soul searching I am engaged in at the moment. Perhaps nearing fifty at a hurtling speed. Maybe the final dying gasps of hopes that no longer fight to live, as they succumb to numb reality. I don't know. Maybe it means nothing.

Were this another day I might wax poetic or weave a tale rife with emotion. Today I'm just along for the ride.

Is it passive or realistic? Is it hopelessness that weighs me down or indifference? I can't tell any longer, and because of this I don't offer any solutions or suggestions to impact a viewpoint. My youth is certainly slipping away or is it wisdom setting in? Does it even matter?

I proffer a guess, or it's near approximation; I think in the final analysis it really doesn't matter. How you are viewed, considered, remembered is all determined by those who remember. You can't effect their perspective. They must arrive at it alone.

You can determine the props and setting, the pieces they consider, but not the meaning. In the end you did and said what you did. They cannot know the fullness of your experience, background, circumstance. They see through their glass darkly, not yours, just as you viewed your encounters with others; came to your conclusions. Incorporated or rejected. So it goes.

 We are constantly landing on a platform of grace or condemnation. We take our stands and come to rest, be it peaceful or not. And life is over.

Those that engage are all that's left of us, and how they view us is determined by the light that is in them. What light fills us? Emits our eyes? Most don't bother to discern or even raise their heads to ask. Sadly this is true.

How many encounters with the lost and aimless sheep? Or worse, pigs on wings or wanton dogs? Floyd had much to say, but most don't listen, do they?

Perhaps it is the giving in, the yielding to "whatever" that makes me feel this way. Maybe it is best. Who knows? Certainly not me.

Where do you put the pieces that won't be put? How do you express that which won't be expressed?
Here is the lesson: *.*

Wildcards. Endless possibilities. I don't know the answers. Does any one?