You might be asking why I’m calling this blog “Embracing Homelessness”. Trust me, it isn’t because I’m enjoying it. I think it’s because fighting the real world won’t help. But just rolling over and letting it all happen isn’t the answer either.
Sure, there’s a part of me that wants to put it all behind me, use this as a fresh start and just make sure I avoid making the same mistakes. It seems to me there’s a certain wisdom to that. It’s all over and done, after all, nothing I can do now will change what’s happened by a single atom. Or quark. Or some other, even smaller particle.
And a blank page has appeal–why else do we try so hard to fill it?
Except, of course, for those times when facing the blank page scares us to death.
Maybe we try to fill it, that expanse of white with no identity of its own, so we don’t have to look back. Make a mental wall of it so we don’t have to examine the whys and wherefores, the results of choices (made poorly or maybe made well, but backfired somehow) and the effects of happenstance, and the collision between the two.
Or maybe we do it–maybe I do it–to understand. Not because I think reliving or re-examining my life will bring back the reality of what I had Then, for nothing can; I have lost too much in too many different directions. And not even because others might be able to learn from my mistakes and thereby avoid them…although that might be a nice side effect.
It’s because if I’m not willing to be the witness of my own life, who will be? And it’s this that has the stronger voice for me.
So it asks me, “How the bloody hell did I end up here? Sans house, sans job, sans a bunch of stuff and a lot of money and sans all too many cats–HOW did it happen?”
That’s the voice I’m hoping to put to rest.