Destiny seems such an old-fashioned idea. Pooh-pooh’d by many as stuff and nonsense. And maybe they have a point, it’s all just thought anyway isn’t it? At least that’s the recourse of apparently awakened materialists.
Weather, we can see, but climate, that’s macro, needs a special thingy on the telescope to see that. And as for atmosphere, or mood. Hmmm.
So much of this revolves around the notion of control, controller/s, the scope of control, the nature of control, within and without.
Were this life a ship, yes, we steer left and right, but the wind, the waves, the crew. We’re in for a bumpy ride.
For some destiny is a dance, and to take part, it would help to know the dance, the rhythm, the moves. When we don’t, the dance passes ghostly by us with barely a whisper. I say barely, because the whispers are ever there, and not necessarily quiet.
When you look at your life in the round, over the long haul, you might detect certain themes, certain challenges, certain puzzles and hurts, certain wishes and regrets, certain sadnesses, certain bright lights, that even now, especially now, draw you towards them.
But surely this is fantasy. Well, maybe check next week, same time. Or the week after. Check in with Destiny calling. She’s patience impersonified, bless her. Open your arms just a little, get out the way, just an inch, and see what happens. An inch is more than enough.