Nemesis, NoBloPoMo, Reflections, Stories...

The Dilemma

On this, the day before my writing challenge begins, I find my previous concerns morphing into something more akin to “fear.”  I don’t like to admit to being afraid, but I am trying to be honest here.  And here’s my dilemma…

That passing thought I’ve had, repeatedly during times just passed, about thoughts manifesting into form, has become more pressing with each new validation.  For example, take last night.  I’ve been having a particularly bad “pain” week, and last night driving home, I was unsure how I would even manage to make it up the stairs to feed my cat, knowing full well that if I came down again, I would be stuck downstairs for some unknown duration.  But I must, somehow, find a way up, at least once, because my dear Shilo would be counting on me…

When I got home, I stumbled around, dreading that nightmarish climb. When at long last, I found the courage and determination to try (with the cat yowling constantly and writhing under my unsteady feet), I pushed aside the curtain to discover… a railing had miraculously appeared sometime during the day!  To be fair, such a railing has been in the works, and I knew when I left in the morning that my roommate was expecting guests, but I had no idea it was going to be a railing-install day.  But thank Goodness it was, because I might not have made it to the top, but for that smooth new wood that helped me pull myself up!

Then there was all things broken and related.  The post I mentioned that I recently wrote but did not publish was entitled “Breaking or Broken?,” and it was all about the pain I’ve been in most recently.  After reading that first draft, I decided it was un-publishable, being a nasty piece of self-indulgence, a mere venue for whining and feeling sorry for myself…  And when I pushed it aside in disgust, and looked for something else to read, I was led to a new-to-me WordPress blog where the most recent post was about repairing broken things.  It spoke of a Japanese philosophy that celebrated what was broken, highlighting scars as unique markers of our journeys, making us stronger and more uniquely us along the way.  And it was inspiring, strengthening, and full of hope for me…  Synchronicity…  Just two days ago…

Because yesterday at work, my friend (who I’ve been referring to so much lately), without prompting or reading my blog, told me of an unrelated story that had caught her attention, entitled… wanna guess?… “Broken.”  Oh, yes;  I couldn’t make this stuff up!

And when I finally climbed the stairs last night, thanks to my new best friend, the Rail, I found my roommate had left me a book she thought I might enjoy.  Care to guess what it’s called?  No, don’t try to think too hard; it’s as obvious as it seems.  The book is “Broken” by Karin Slaughter, and before you ask, no, I hadn’t yet spoken to her about these recurring themes…  Synchronicity…

There’s more, but I believe I’ve made my point…  Thought manifesting directly, and quickly, into reality…

I’ve had to cancel plans already three times this week because my physical self has been so unsupportive (literally!), and today is Halloween.  One last event on my schedule this week, and I’m not sure I can handle it: a fire at some friends’ house this eve…  But with the cold and the damp, and the pain…  I don’t know…

And a text message came through…  “Not sure about the fire tonight.  It’s supposed to rain.”…  Synchronicity…?

This just in (via text, of course): “We want you to be here for [our] first fire so we will figure a day out.”  Definitely synchronicity…

And with these, and many other, examples of thought manifesting directly into reality, I cannot help but worry about the villain I am supposed to create.  Clearly, invoking something “evil” into my life at this time seems foolish, at best, and potentially dangerous.  Is this something I truly want to do?…

Stuck here in bed, surrounded by the tools of my most current craft, I realize the question is foolish; the decision has already been made.  With my back pressed firmly against the wall (well, against the four or five pillows that are pressed firmly against the wall, anyway), I will proceed.  Because I must; I can’t help myself.  There’s a frustrated artist living within, who cannot resist shiny things, and that gauntlet is laying there, all shiny and new…

Slowly… Painfully… I reach down.  Cold metal meets colder flesh as fear drives all the warming blood deep within myself.  Grasping my courage with one hand, the gauntlet with the other, I rise slowly, to face whatever the Future has planned…

And so the Adventure begins…

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