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Archive for the tag “stars”

Starting and Starting Over

walking backwards png

Starting, and starting over, is not the same thing.  They are as different as walking forward, and walking forward, backwards.  Not as clearly different as starting and stopping.  If it was, then you would have no trouble telling them apart.  But make no mistake; people do have trouble telling them apart.

Starting is that thing we do at the beginning of some something we have not done.  Starting over is that thing we do when some something stops us, but just long enough for us to think that maybe we have not really stopped at all.

It is understandable when those who have never really started a something, and seen it to its end, don’t know.  Most books don’t teach it, and most folks have never lived it.  It’s a mystery, on the lines of accepted but incomprehensible things like the laws of gravity, and thermodynamics.  But whether or not someone knows what those names are names for, ask them if a satellite or even a shooting star could fall to earth, and they nod and say, of course those things are true.

And this is where I say that, because those laws say that a body in motion tends to stay in motion, and a body at rest tends to stay at rest, the very same thing can be equally true about the path of a human life, lived in this human world, often at the mercy of the most human of circumstances.

Speed bumps are formed.  Detours are made.  Shit happens.  And sometimes, those obstacles stop the beautiful movement of a body in motion, until it becomes a body at unintended rest.

Have you ever tried to give a falling star a shove to get it back on its course through the heavens?  It’s not as easy as it sounds.  In fact, it’s damn fucking impossible.  Yet when a very human body, with all its complexities of motion and emotion, loses its path through the glory of this world, it is no more easily shoved back on course than the star that fell from the sky.

But we still ask of those who lost all their momentum, sometimes well-intentioned, sometimes with a critical intent, why can’t you just start over?

Maybe it’s in the way they’re walking.  And maybe you’ve been fooled, because you haven’t noticed that they’re walking forward, backwards.  And maybe in walking backwards, they are slowed by looking at the past that was; their past, lost to the speed bumps, the detours, and the shit of something that no longer is, and not the new that waits behind their back, right over their shoulder.  Not in starting over, but in turning around and starting brand new.

So in the same way you would look into the night sky and at the stars within it, look closely at the shining stars before you, and understand.  Because starting over is never easy, and they are doing the best that they can.


© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday




I’m really not who you think I am.

I give points to those, in my past, who guess bits and pieces of me correctly.  You’ve all tried so hard to be right that it doesn’t seem fair not to reward that effort with a bonus peek behind the curtain, as an “atta boy” for playing the game.

And it’s not that I purposely deceived you about who I am.  I haven’t.  It’s just that, after so many years of living my life, day to day, I really don’t think about sharing every detail of it with you.  Not because I’m keeping things from you, but because, after living it all the first time, I just don’t think of it as interesting. 

It wasn’t interesting to me.

Or to anyone else who lived it with me.

Because I’ve lived every day up till now, all those days before you had any thoughts of me, as days of necessity, not serendipity.  My nose grew more comfortable with the grindstone than it ever was with the stars.  And my existence has, for the most part, been for others who depended on me, and not my own amusement.  At this point, I don’t have a frivolous bone in my body.

Or they’ve all been broken.

Therefore, no matter what you may think you know about me, what you really know about me is what you and I discover, together.  I’ve kept my life compartmentalized, mostly for my own safety.  At least that’s what I kept telling myself, over and over, since the day my heart began to crumble.  First, I built a wall.  Then another, then two more, and before I knew what I was doing, I had built so many rooms inside me that I had one for every thought.  One for every feeling.  Safe and unsafe.  For sharing or hiding.  Each one a closed space, until I decide that you are safe to me.  But no one gets a key to the whole place.  Not unless we go there together. 

Only if you are safe.

Are you safe? 


© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

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