river of time

From our last fishing trip, the Little Red River, Heber Springs, Arkansas

"Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you." ~ Carl Sandburg

I am in control of my life. I tell myself this though I'm not sure I believe it. I have high self-esteem, in the sense that I know who I am and I like myself, internally, the most a human can like themselves, flaws and all. I'm not afraid to be myself. (Physically I'm not as confident, physically I think I'm flat-chested, pear-shaped, and weak-jawed. I'm beautiful, but only from the right angles. We're all that way, though, aren't we, inside and out.)

There are people that I know that don't know themselves. They morph, they alter themselves depending on the situation, depending on to whom they are speaking. I hear the change in their voice, see it in the curvature of their spine, watch it like a cloud drift over their face. To live to be nearly 30, nearly 50, and not know oneself... tragedy. We are all we get, our one life, our one personality and face and soul. As much as I want to come back, in reincarnation style, it's not probable. So I'm trying to make sure that the life that I'm living is my own, for me, me alone as the captain of this flat-chested opinionated ship. 

I suppose it's optimistic to think we can handle the wheel our entire lives, never falling asleep, never getting bored or lazy and handing it over, never using autopilot. But the majority of the time we should be in control. Even when asking someone to join us on this journey, the way you would a spouse, you must retain an autonomous grasp on your wheel and steer it in your own direction, becoming who you want to become, doing what you need to do. If you've chosen correctly, they'll only love you more for it. 

Watching the crape myrtle leaves blowing in circles outside my window this morning, heavy clouds rolling in overhead, I'm reminded of how quickly life can change. A slight wind blows us off our course and we can't get it back, no matter how we struggle. That's ok though, I think, perhaps that puff was meant to happen. Meant to happen... what does that mean, who makes that decision? Fate, destiny, whatever you call it, do you believe in it? I struggle with it, maybe because I so want to retain possession of all my decisions, maybe because to believe in it is to believe in something higher than myself, cognizant being or not. 

It's Friday morning. I'm barely awake so I'm rambling, the words flowing down to my fingertips faster than my long size 4 and a half fingers can type them. My hair is still wet and my linen shirt is making my shoulder blades itch, so I slide back and forth against my chair, like a bear on a tree. I've got a Dr. Pepper to my right and my blackberry to my left, ready to work this morning, ready to make a difference in the lives of the coworkers I've come to admire and enjoy. But I am glad it's Friday, and this weekend I'm steering myself towards a hair cut, sushi with friends, my garage sale in the morning, my Dad's birthday celebration tomorrow, and a very lazy Sunday in the sun of my yard.