I have just finished another big work project today. I have one last push tomorrow on some edits on my new novel and I will then have a free week to indulge in the holidays. Alas we are expecting an unseasonably wet Christmas in the Northeast. This will be the first time in the seven years since I began to repatriate myself to this corner of the world that Christmas will not be white. Of course a cold front could blow in and change everything. But weather is so scientifically calibrated these days - with so many disparate computer models at work, tracking cold and warm fronts and potential storms - that the chance of a downward temperature plunge (with resulting snow) is dubious. And yes, a wet Christmas in a region where snow is usually prevalent will be disappointing. What’s intriguing to me right now is the notion of hoping for something that you otherwise know will not come, and how much of life such a negotiation continues to be. I used to have to grapple with considerable internal anxiety. I was a catastrophist who always feared the worst befalling me. I spent many years learning how to divest myself of such anxiety, and have actually reached a juncture in my life where I worry far less than I used to. And I have developed a certain perspective on things out of my control. Just last night I was on a flight from Newark to Portland, Maine. We were an hour delayed, then took off. Thirty minutes into the flight, when we should have started our descent into Portland, the pilot got on the loudspeaker and said we had a problem with the gears and were being ordered back to Newark. It took us forty minutes to get back to where we started from. I was not pleased. But I decided then and there: this is completely out of my control. I have no choice but to see what alternatives they have for us... and decide thereafter whether to accept them or do something drastic like rent a car and drive to Maine. As it turned out they transferred us all on to another plane. We took off an hour later and only arrived in Portland one hundred minutes behind schedule. And I did use the time to write some more, and to soothe my somewhat control freak tendencies with the thought: this has turned out reasonably. And you cannot rail against things beyond your control... however unfair, stupid (or, in extreme circumstances, awful) they may be. To quote an excellent Irish expression: we are all fortune’s fools.
Posted on: Sun, 21 Dec 2014 18:08:02 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015