Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Wednesday, 11 December 2019

Fatalism: On Being A Snow Flake

A couple years back I was in a bad place of sorts. I was on my knees, in the snow on Dawg Island at 5:00 in the morning. Probably around this time of the year too... with only the odd puff of wind, the odd snowflake drifting by, and the dawgs flopped out in a snow drift as they obediently waited on me. It was a setting of perfection, really. The dawgs grunted and oinked as they chewed at the ice balls betweern their toes. Other than that... silence. In the light of my headlamp my breath bellowed and crystalized. A snow flake landed on my mitt and I marvelled at its intricate and infinite complexity. Every single flake was just as intricate and complex... and all of it could be lost as they settled in their millions billions in the snowdrifts of Dawg Island alone. The result was a masterpiece of utter perfection with the dark, the light, the snow,

I was on my knees at the time because I was just plumb out of steam. At work, where I had succeeded for 10 years, things were falling apart. It may not have been my fault that the economy had collapsed, but it was my fault that our profit and margins had also. I was expected to work miracles and do it for free. My meetings with the national sales manager had degenerated into shouting matches. My daughter had started acting like a hormonal teenager with psychiatric problems. She'd also become a sexual degenerate and went dark. When I tried to deal with her, my in laws would involve themselves and encourage and enable my daughter and wouldn't listen to me at all. I asked - and then told them to stay out of it and mind their own business and they laughed at me. The friction was straining my marriage to the breaking point as my wife was caught in the middle of a family trying to tear itself apart. In the middle of Dawg Island, amidst that peaceful masterpiece of snow and perfection - I was in chaos. My issues were as unique and intricate and complicated has that single tiny snowflake resting on my winter mitt - and exactly the same as anyone else that had family problems. I had no control over any of those things in my life or the people that were tearing it apart - and yet... here I was, on my knees, on Dawg Island, on a beautiful winter morn... and as much a part of that masterpiece of creation as that tiny snowflake resting on my mitt. I was pushed along by the same seemingly random breezes and winds as the ones that settled that snowflake on my mitt.

It was then that I met my Maker for the first time. I couldn't speak to Him, I couldn't see Him... but I knew He was there. Even though I've been through the old testament and I'm halfway through the old... that's all I know for now for sure in the empirical sense. It's enough. Somebody lit the fuse on the big bang, Somebody saw a purpose to this third rock from the sun, and maybe Somebody saw a need for me to be on Dawg Island studying a random snowflake on my mitt.





Dennis takes a good shot this.
His words are wise and are not lost on me.
But.

How do you honour your parents, Dennis, when they dishonor you? 

How do you treat your parents in a Christian way, when they sin against you, your kids, themselves, and God?

I'm not trying to be a dink, I'm asking because I don't know. I've lost my way. 

At work I was expected to work miracles and do it for free and I couldn't do that. As a father I was supposed to...what? To lesbian social justice warriors, fathers are punching bags or live sacrifices. As a son in law, I was supposed to be a rich, respected millionaire to be a worthy mate for my wife. As a husband I was a failure because I couldn't do any of those things.

Maybe those other snow flakes are just being pushed by winds of their own? I think ol' Dennis might have missed the boat. Maybe the best thing to do is just go where the winds send us? And have the grace to accept it and embrace it? It's not like we have any choice in the matter. Perhaps the lesson is that you accept your lot because there are those in far worse places. There go I but for the grace of God and all that...

I'm taking a break from the job boards today. I slept in like a slob, had a great big breakfast Next I will put on my crime-fighting sweat pants and go sweep Dawg Island for senior delinquents. If I see any of you lot out there - don't expect any mercy. 😉

Have a great Humpday.


9 comments:

  1. Yeah, I hear you. New day tomorrow.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It is indeed, BP! Hey - thanks for stopping by!

      Delete
  2. I am waiting for an epiphany of some kind too. Maybe I am just thick and don't get it. But I am getting a bit sore from getting thrashed against the rocks over and over.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yup. Drifting along on gentle icy breezes over pristine landscapes beats the hell out of getting thrashed on the rocks and I fear I may be joining you shortly in that regard, M. I shall expect you to prepare for my arrival, with the finest accomodations and libations ready to go. And once we've refreshed ourselves - the rocks will get the worst of it!

      Delete
  3. it took me 60 years to finally realise that I was allowed to be happy. it sounds selfish, but once I accepted that others were holding me back, then I could go forward. most of the things that seemed too big to deal with, sorted them selfs out.
    I and almost everyone likes me better now that I have made peace with myself.
    good luck with your future

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Amen, Ron, and congrats by the way. As you say, things either sort themselves out, or they'll get resolved in the next world. I haven't attained that peace you have yet... but I am on the way. I'm 55, so... yeah, I'll probably be 60 by the time I get my poop in a group too...

      Delete
  4. i try to remember that this generation are the grandkids of mine, in which, in the 60's, all morality was thrown in the trash these kids have no anchor, no moral backbone, and are blown by every passing breeze a boat with no anchor on the seas is doomed i feel so sorry for them but they cannot be allowed to drift about crashing into the moored boats or the boats under a steersman which are plying the seas

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I see that as a recurring theme at my wife's little church out in the country, Deb. The hammer the idea of foundations pretty hard, as you might expect.

      Wish I'd run into these people earlier in life.

      Delete