BEACHING THE BOAT….
It came to me several bed-times ago. It was a blazing, full on coloured, screaming in the night…..nightmare.
I had lost my way. Essentially, I was lost and fighting my way back to being found.
There are some events in life we can attempt to control. Conscience. Controlled. Choices.
Which ice cream to buy: light, churned, no fat-no-taste OR get out the churn and help me herd the cows into the milking parlour. So-help-me I won’t tell if you won’t.
Knickers today. Or, NOT. Again…I won’t tell if you don’t.
Turn right. Turn left.
Stand still or stand in the middle.
In other words and worlds…small, uneventful choices made everyday with little thought, academic concern, or magnanimous care. Daily life caught up in the waves but with oars in the water.
Then there is the other stuff…the major stuff.
Stuff that is going to count…or be counted…or needs to be counted.
Major stuff that could possibly swamp the boat if more care isn’t taken to keep the oars moving, the horizon in sight, and safe harbours sussed out should the need arise.
With My Reader’s help…I’m beaching my boat for a while in a safe harbour. Seems to be a good time to lay in the sand and look at cloud formations….
…and rearrange the barnacles that have been ignored.
The oar slips need repair and a paint job is in order. Might take a while.
My Reader wants to know when I’ll be back.
In good time.