Despite the deeply ingrained givens expressed in the previous post, there exists a completely irrational sense that the very next thing, whatever it might be, will work.
Ludicrous, I know… but there it is. It might actually be quite funny if it wasn’t so real.
It may well be the only reason I’m still alive.
I don’t think so though. There seems to be an unseen force that assists. As in making sure I steer properly to avoid an imminent crash, or an old acquaintance emailing a week before the evil bank is to start ripping me off with amazing Bailey-ish offers at a new bank… or anything in between. Cosmic intervention? Angels? Something like that.
And yet, notwithstanding any of that… there is a bizarre tendency to never ever do anything that might actually be good for me, like… do some yoga or play the guitar… although buying the guitar is okay, and then… looking at it, in full awareness of what I just said.
Something’s not right.
Why am I posting this stuff?