Destination Destiny

I sit here on my sofa, about 10 minutes before I am to leave for the Oakland airport. This is the top of the hill of a rollercoaster, the stallpoint of a too-steeply-climbing aircraft. I do not mean this in a negative way,

[Ok, it was time to leave for the airport. Now I'm actually at the Oakland Airport, Gate 3]

So no, I didn't mean to imply anything negative or even mixed. I'm talking not only about that funny feeling in your gut, because of the physics of acceleration and force, but also that funny feeling in your head, as if all the threads of your existence are gathered at hand. There is nowhere but Here. Which also, thanks to certain schools of physics, means there is no-when but Now.

So it's no surprise that you might be set upon by a quite viceral sense of destiny . Not necessarily that overarching, overweening save-the-world, meet-your-maker kind of destiny, though that certainly could be the case. Right here in the Now, right now in the Here, the God of Biscuits holds all the threads in his hand and he's about to take them with him on a plane to Arizona to spend much needed quality-time (yes, all kinds, you piggies) with his boy, Sam.

The so-called Rational Mind wants to qualify every thought, hopes to blunt every expectation of what's to come, needs to put the control-freak's spin on the failure to leash a creature which has no form in the first place.

The rest of me, the better part of me, knows that the Rational Mind must do what it must, tilting at windmills even as the wind itself starts the clock back up, carries all parties off to create their own futures.