what do you hear...

Nothing but the rain...

I have been meaning to write for a while now. But life sometimes has a habit of getting in the way. Yet, there are no excuses. I wish I could say that I have been unavoidably delayed by the world... Off gallivanting on grand adventures that have prevented me from finding the time to write. But in truth, my life here has settled into a familiar routine, where days come and go with comfortable regularity. I think perhaps I may have reached a point somewhere close to contentment. Or at least, as near as one can find in this so-called world of ours.

Someone once told me that a good rain knows when to fall. Literally, metaphorically or otherwise. It arrives at the times when you need it most. When you find yourself seeking clarity or catharsis... Some form of balance in this random collection of moments, that make up our life. And so in the midst of this rainy season, I find myself in a reflective mood.

It has now been a year since I closed off a necessary chapter of my existence and re-embarked on the journey that returned me to these shores. Looking back, I wonder if everything I remember ever really happened at all.... We all have a tendency to view the past through rose-coloured glasses. Memory is an unreliable thing after all, and there is a danger in nostalgia that we sometimes fail to recognise.

I wonder why we all hold onto things we don't need any longer? To people and places that once seemed to hold so much value. An unfortunate side-effect perhaps, of giving too much and receiving too little. A necessary consequence of merely living.

All I do realise is that I am no longer the same person I was, or indeed, ever will be again. A little older, not very much wiser (^_^) I've been up and I've been down, but mostly I've been somewhere very much in between. I like to think I've learned from my mistakes, but then again, I've had more time to make them... I've been through what I like to call my quarter-life crisis, and still feel very much in it... "it" may just end up being the rest of my life (^_^) but so it goes...

I think that I would rather recollect a life mis-spent on foolish, fragile things, than spent avoiding moral debt...

So by-the-by I am content to continue playing the fool and simply make things up as I go along... Times change and we with them...

And yet I fear that perhaps my life has become so light and free from responsibility that I might fly off the earth entirely and never return... for there is far too little tying me to the ground...

Uncle Ben once told Peter Parker that with great power, comes great responsibility....
But sometimes with great freedom, comes NO responsibility... I wonder sometimes if I could ever truly be responsible for something or someone other than myself. Or if I have spent far too much time in my own company that I am simply too self-involved and incapable of ever making room for somebody else. The danger is that we can sometimes lead such detached lives, devoid of lasting human connection, that we lose our humanity entirely. Going through the motions, but never really "feeling" anything. Nothing "real" anyway.

If I had to sum up myself now, it would be with two words – selfish and irresponsible. Somewhat harsh perhaps, but brutally honest in the grand scheme of things. I have no-one to think of other than myself, and all my decisions and actions are based entirely on my own satisfaction.

We all must be selfish to some extent. It is the law of self-preservation. And I am far too old to lie to myself and call it honour.

"The past is the past and the future is the future. A man is a man and a woman is a woman. The present is the present. I am who I am and you are who you are. That's all there is to it. Does it really matter, or do we just thing it does...?"

Because at the end of the day, you cannot forget who you truly are... no matter how many nights you stay away trying...

Yet we try. And lie to ourselves as we paint on our faces and put on our wigs and mutter our lines... Life's a show, and we all play a part. Alternatively the heroes and the villains and the fools, on the stage of our own existence. A story of our own telling. A life like any other, unlike any other.

But there is a truth in lies that we sometimes fail to recognise, or are unable to admit to ourselves. For when we lie, we must create an entire world that is crafted from the fabric of our "real" lives. And in the same breath, becomes entirely true in the telling – at least in our own minds.

Tell me your lie and I will tell you who you are... If this is my lie, than who, in fact, am I?

So what do I hear...?
Nothing but the rain....