C'est la vie
The weekend just gone I ought to have been at the Grey Mare pagan camp in the New Forest, but was unable to get there due to a lack of dog sitters (and insufficient time to get the beasts vaccinated, as is the prerequisite now, in order to put them in to kennels). I was very much looking forward to going, catching up with old friends and generally relaxing, storytelling etc.
In a novel or film or New Age book, being blocked in one area of life invariably turns out to be because the Powers That Be are redirecting one to something else. Did I need to be kept in Ipswich this weekend so that I could find that million-pound winning Lottery ticket, bump into my future husband, or save the house from burning down? Apparently not. I did some rather humdrum things round town, went to the pub, and attended a nice druid gathering one afternoon, but nothing crucial or life-changing happened to me in Ipswich last weekend.
Storytellers and spiritual gurus invariably want life to make sense, want things to happen for some higher purpose that is salient to an unfolding plot. I don't wish to suggest that life is completely meaningless, but one can but feel that more often than not things happen in this world (or fail to happen) for no particular reason ~ random, meaningless, and largely pointless events go on. If we scrape any good out of them, it's probably a sheer fluke.
Arguably the popularity of fiction is that it imposes sense and order on the imaginary worlds contained within, which gives the hope that our own lives might unfold in a way that makes sense too.
In a novel or film or New Age book, being blocked in one area of life invariably turns out to be because the Powers That Be are redirecting one to something else. Did I need to be kept in Ipswich this weekend so that I could find that million-pound winning Lottery ticket, bump into my future husband, or save the house from burning down? Apparently not. I did some rather humdrum things round town, went to the pub, and attended a nice druid gathering one afternoon, but nothing crucial or life-changing happened to me in Ipswich last weekend.
Storytellers and spiritual gurus invariably want life to make sense, want things to happen for some higher purpose that is salient to an unfolding plot. I don't wish to suggest that life is completely meaningless, but one can but feel that more often than not things happen in this world (or fail to happen) for no particular reason ~ random, meaningless, and largely pointless events go on. If we scrape any good out of them, it's probably a sheer fluke.
Arguably the popularity of fiction is that it imposes sense and order on the imaginary worlds contained within, which gives the hope that our own lives might unfold in a way that makes sense too.
The 'who the hell is writing my life' days. Robin, I think you just had a plot out of serious, high brow literature. (Which I once heard defined as the form in which very little happens and people think about it a lot.) Or could be a romance set up to demonstrate that you're a chap who really deserves some good luck and our sympathy, at which point a handsome stranger you met once should now mysteriously re-appear in unlikely circumstances.
ReplyDeleteWaiting for Godknows.... I really hope not! Now the romantic plot with the unexpected reappearance/declaration of interest is much more what I am hoping for.
ReplyDelete