The Magic 8 Ball fails to tell its secrets

I keep a Magic 8 Ball on the nightstand by my bed.
It is fairly dusty, as dusting really is not my forte.
I see it every day, even if the sight of it doesn't register.
And I fail to ask it the really important questions in my life.

Saturday evening and I didn’t feel like going out. So I went to mass, went to the grocery, cooked dinner and read.
“Hike Your Own Hike” by Francis Tapon. A gift from a friend who is concerned about me.
“Here’s hoping the hikes you’ve yet to take on your journey through life will reward you with well-deserved joy and very worthwhile experiences!” he wrote inside the cover.

My eyes grew droopy and the cool air filtered in from the window – and it made me smile that I had switched the sheets to the flannel ones with the moose and bear on them – and sleep was near. I turned to shut the light off…
And picked up the 8 Ball.

“Is my life on the right track?” I fairly whispered, even though the neighborhood was dark and quiet – and wouldn’t have responded had I shouted.

“Better not tell you now.”

Figures.

But it makes sense. Not one person, not one thing, can tell you the answers you truly seek. They are there for you to figure out. In your heart and in your head.
And there are no wrong answers, either. Just missteps. Tangent paths that peter out in time.
Funny thing is, the book is helping to solidify some issues (other than a new lust to hike the entire Pacific Crest Trail sooner rather than later) central to my life now at 44. Reading passages has given me insight to my own heart.
And my heart has told my head that this is a good time to be ThomG, even if my head can’t wrap itself around all the fits and hiccups.
“The uncertainty of the future made me addicted to my daily routines – at least they were relatively comfortable,” Tapon writes. “I cling tightly to the known, instead of letting go and venturing into the unknown.”

I am ThomG; the unknown is where I function best.
So just get fucking on with it.
Still clinging to those daily routines; don’t want to let anyone down.

And that remains the dilemma.

And just so you know, on the other nightstand is my Obsessive-Compulsive Action Figure (a gift from Boots). I suppose I could have just as easily asked him if I was on the right track.
He’d probably just tell me to go wash my hands.

1 comments:

Hilda said...

OMG. You have your OCD Action Figure on your nightstand? OMG And you have flannel sheets with bears on them? And you tell people this? OMG ;-)