Musings of a weird chick.

The balcony of my house quite lends itself to philosophical musings and is quite inviting to budding Platos. You see verdant wilderness, broken here and there by the ubiquitous concrete buildings, everywhere you look. The recent rains have rendered the barren hills dark green. Wispy clouds waft over the said hills; I am pensive. Rainy days and Mondays always make me blue. Yet again, I have given up cold comfort for change. Yet again, my life careens towards some undefined, uncertain, nebulous goal. Yet again, I have left things to chance. Yet again, I have gambled.

It is quite uncharacteristic of me, this risk taking. I have always lived within the boundaries that people draw for themselves, crippled by self-doubt; one bird in hand is worth than two in the bush. I would say it is better than the two in the bush. I wonder what happened to playing it safe. How lightly we regard that which we obtain easily!

Am I just so blinded by the obsession to attain these impossibly high standards? Is there a larger picture that I’m missing? I wish one had all the answers to uncomfortable questions. I wish taking a chance had some sort of collateral, some insurance. But I do know that I would kick myself years from now if I chose not to explore this chance given to me, that the point of life is to test your limits. You rage against the unfair hand that Fate deals you and you make your own destiny. You don’t go with the flow. You are not satisfied with what you achieve and you strive for more. Do you not cease to exist when smug complacency sets it?

But where does it stop? Is there a logical conclusion to this endless war that you wage? Are you ever content with what you have? I know these answers will evade me. Or life wouldn’t be as interesting. Neither would you hold on to life so dearly, if you understood its meaning or essence. Life would be simple. You would take it for granted, as you take those closest to you. If you knew all of life’s secrets and mysteries, life’s outcome would be predictable. But where’s the fun in predictability? We are drawn to that which we don’t understand; it’s almost a challenge to decipher the inscrutable. It is triumph we feel once we have solved the mystery. That’s what I am aiming for, anyway.

Stormy days lie ahead, full of both possibilities and disappointment. I hope I marshal the strength to get through each day.

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, Martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"