"Time is a spiral; space is a curve. I know you get dizzy but try not to lose your nerve."
I used to love connecting dots. As a child it was more about validating what was on the page and guessing what the image was even before I connected them all.
Filling in what wasn't there.
I still love connecting dots, but this time figuratively transformed to the page-like synchronicities flying around me moment to moment.
Filling in the multiplicity of there from what wasn't.
We did do that as a child as well, beyond the drawing and coloring number-dotted page. I see it in Beatrice; the wonder of connecting life to itself -- one cat, tree, bird and blue sky at a time...
We went to my nephew's high school graduation on Friday. He's one smart young man who's going to UC Berkeley in the fall. We couldn't be prouder.
Watching both my niece and nephew yesterday, both now young adults, made me long for not filling in what wasn't there. Meaning as parents, don't connect ahead in the Bea and Bryce dot book.
Change is constant. The dots on our pages are excited and dance, our lives encased within in interconnected particle accelerators.
Stars are born; stars implode; stars rebirth.
And when I wrote this last week:
While "Waiting for Godot", you must learn to let go. It's the only way you can move on. Because resentment won't. Life is absurd that way.
And then I came across a Samuel Beckett quote:
"Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better."
I came to grips with a fact that I already knew:
That the dots on my page are about to boogie down.
"In a world where I feel so small, I can't stop thinking big."