I have this feeling (comes and goes) that my life is somehow attuned to a grand and mysterious structure underlying the all: “that which was meant to be”. Ever get that? I remember talking to one of my friends about such a thing, asked him whether he had always felt somewhere that he was destined for something great. He nodded, yes, right on the nose, and we were kindred. It’s not madness, I don’t think, or maybe it is only madness’ cousin, because I can trace it back to before I had any kind of truly mad thought. The feeling did, however, enable my Christ complex. So it goes. But the feeling hangs over me like a cloak — a greatness thrust upon ’m, to be thrust upon me, waiting for its appointed time to drop and drape me in one of the colors of fate. Could prove interesting, whatever it might be.
There was that line from the movie, American Beauty: “...everything that was meant to happen, does.” Almost circular, that reasoning, but I am a believer in prophecy, so that line works for me. I know that I am not a Golden One who was foretold would conquer a great evil in the world, but I have these moments... there are some seconds that pass where the great and unknowable Wheel arcing silver in dreamtime lets me imagine that my time is somewhere near or far, but there, that I am meant for something, something I have not yet the words for. Then the feeling passes, and I shake it off. Perhaps I’m just imagining the whole thing, if it comes down to it, that it’s not even madness, but a daydream. Maybe it’s just a figment of my fancy that drifts in then drifts out, that really doesn’t change a thing.
Reflection