Pablo Picasso: Le Rêve (1932)
"It's never too late yet."

Neither a straight nor particularly narrow road, HomeMaking follows a meandering path. The past quickly fades after another seemingly inevitable turn and the way ahead remains largely obscured until just before the next future emerges. It's continuing surprise and anyone wandering there might easily lose heart, given the continuing lack of positive reinforcement. The sweetness in HomeMaking seems retroactive, occurring well after the bulk of the effort's concluded. For the duration of the excursion, aspirations fuel the engagement. Visions of imagined futures motivate continuing. It seems at root, faith-based by nature. Human nature might well prefer more tangible encouragements which remain only sporadically present. Discouragement seems most likely and might well prove deadly. Many abandon their dreams along the way. It seems extraordinary when anyone ultimately finds their way home, either again or originally. But then there are these turnings. Always the Turnings

I spent the first few days of this latest HomeMaking excursion in extremis. I was rather too tangibly trying to break a long-standing habit, a custom, really, attempting to succeed at something I swore I could not believe in: changing a culture, namely, my own, from the inside this time. This aspiration, however originally lofty, was probably destined to fail. Even had the stars actually been aligned to support my efforts, the sun proved far fiercer and my resolve much weaker than I'd imagined, just like always. I had grown so accustomed to feeling displaced that creating a genuine space for myself felt worse than displacement, stealing my courage. Whomever I'd aspired to become would not be so different from who I'd always been. Changing spots changes no leopard. One cannot escape their essence, their original skin. I would retain whomever I'd become within, regardless of the changes I'd initiated out here. I might stop anything, even ingesting nicotine, but I would fundamentally remain myself. I'd become different only in my dreams, even absent my resident habit.

But then come the Turnings, always the Turnings. The wide and remarkably twisty road leaves ample space for surprises providing opportunities to disappoint even the more heart-felt fears. And one never knows, certainly not from any outset and also not from any presumed middle point, either, what might emerge next. A string of struggling days might tomorrow open up to smoother ones, maybe even by this afternoon. There never was any edict preventing such shifts. They might prove easily anticipated if only rarely proven. Only a form of faith encourages persistence. All HomeMaking remains a faith-based initiative regardless. A sense of certainty, certainly might well encourage continuation, but self-deception retains a short shelf life and seems nothing that much to rely upon. Faith never was the equivalent of self-deception, but something quite different. It exists exclusively as 'what if,' beyond confirmable truth, far beyond simple confidence, and requires little reinforcement. One can remain hopeless while retaining faith. Hope comes later, in retrospect, upon homecoming. Arriving rewrites recent history for the better.

My lethargy lifted. I watched myself engaging, slicing through what had just before seemed impenetrable barriers. Who knows why? Who cares? I catch myself relearning this fundamental life lesson. Turnings always come. They're life's nature. Like viruses, experience continues evolving, so often and so quickly that the laws governing even the largest numbers bow before its presence. A week or two spent in gloom might have been quietly constructing elation, waiting on some signal or moment to spring itself upon the proceedings. Turnings seem dependable that way. Any odd next day might prove different. Despair reliably seems premature. Turning worms represent the only sustainable state. It's always different next. But Turnings exist beyond anticipation, even far beyond faith. It's never too late yet. We persist.

©2021 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

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