Would that all my passed revelations had been written down before
consigned to the deepest of my archives!
Took the Bridge bus to work this morning, vacillating, not a thought for the
Bridges but only for the moment and the extra time this route takes. But the familiar soothe of the wheels brought out
the headphones, and Built to Last informed me, and I remembered the Bridges,
and positioned myself to view them as we rolled across the river.
The smooth transition of shapes enabled as I pass this view has now distorted,
tripped so that each of thousands jumped at me for attention, sharp-edged and pulsing, like the moment I
wrote about years now ago when I saw between the pulses of reality – a hesitation
as between movie frames. I was shocked, amazed that I have gotten so far out of sync
with my personal landscape, jolted into thinking what it means.
The result of the intense holidays for sure, but at a deeper and more important
level I realized that my latest big mis-adventure has literally shaken up my
core. Being the repressive that I am, I thought I was just not thinking about
it much and that I had accepted lack of success as the outcome of five years' effort. That I had moved into an Oh Well kind of space and was ready to move on.
Of course not, and here was my
proof, my message to myself read in the moving parts of passing bridges. So I learn that my symbology is good for something besides self-analysis and inspiration; it is good for tracking my wandering mind.
I will do what I can to smooth out my edges until once again the universe is turning in greased grooves. One thing already - a new Last Stage theme: Look for Something Built to Last. Once more the wheel turns and now I am on the hunt for legacy. Nothing stays the same.
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