The Traveler's Lesson

I'm Following You

Photo David A. Hamilton ©2007

Autobiography in Five Chapters

by Portia Nelson

Chapter One:

I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I fall in. I'm lost. I'm helpless. It isn't my fault. It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter Two:

I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend I don't see it. I fall in again. I can't believe I'm in the same place, but it isn't my fault. It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter Three:

I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it is there. I fall in. It's a habit. But my eyes are open. I know where I am...I get out immediately.

Chapter Four:

I walk down the same street. There's a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.

Chapter Five:

I try walking down a different street.

SPRING

Photo © Aline Lesage 2006 My Choice, Really? It’s a pretty morning in the Northwest. After our long and dreary winter, these clear skies, morning patches of puffy pink clouds, and budding crocuses scattered over the green lawn are a welcome sight. Welcome indeed! Welcome also seems my kind of upcoming Friday. Still, when they come around — which is an uncommon occurrence —, these quiet, unencumbered, no-bills-to-pay, no-pressing-issue-to-address-days tend to trigger an eerie feeling, as if something should be happening. Nothing great or exciting of course, like winning the lottery or learning that some Hollywood mogul is offering to buy the movie rights for my novel. Nothing like that. And I don’t mean some mild annoyance like your car won’t start, your regular ATM is down, or your internet server is temporarily disabled. No, this is more like shattering news that will require you to see your therapist for the next couple of years. For example, suddenly learning that someone you love is plagued with a devastating condition, or worse, that they’re moving to a town three thousand miles away from you and that you’ll probably never see them again. Or that suddenly and inexplicably, your best friend is no longer your best friend. And then there’s the pure and simple unthinkable, that I might learn of some devastating condition of my own. So why should my mind even go there today? Is this another of our unbesought female attributes? Don’t men ever experience that same sense of racking-without-any-reason sense of dread and impending doom too? So do I just happen to be wired this way, or is it rather all about attitude? Ahhhh, AT-TI-TU-DE! They say life is 10% facts and 90% of that miraculous or deadly potion, depending on how you ingest it. I guess I'll have to think about this. But if that’s true, I mean really true, then I need to enjoy this day for all its worth. Maybe it’s time to give praise for all God’s crocuses.

Cape Kiwanda, Oregon

Aline Lesage © 2007 The Penitent Writer Yes, I’m guilty! Senseless guilty for not having blogged for, well, way too long. But then does anyone have any idea of the time and energy involved in marketing one’s own novel??? Believe me, it’s nothing less than awesome (I’m trying to pick my words here). So for those who might have missed my postings (is there truly someone out there who has?), I’m back. I can only start with today, can’t I? And tomorrow, or the next day, maybe I’ll have something more to say. Thanks for your patience. Oh, since I’m at it, I wish to all (intelligent men included) an inspired, scrumptious and uninhibited International Woman’s Day. And remember: well-behaved women seldom make history!