Don’t know when this started, but it happens a lot. At the corner, down the road from my office, there is an intersection I’ve passed every day for the past thirteen years. When the light turns green, I push the pedal slightly; I can’t, for some reason, turn my head to look left or right as I do at other intersections. Instead, I stare at the sign from the Chowder Pot III (a local seafood restaurant) and drive on.
The reason is, I think this is the spot where I will lose my life due to some idiot running the red light and clipping me sideways. I do. I almost prepare for it every time. I can’t count the times that this has almost happened.
Could it be that I died in a car accident like this in my past life or a parallel universe? I do believe there is such a place, and I also believe we start over when we die. We begin in another form. Some of us might have a gift to see and feel these past experiences.
Walking into a room and noticing a person and scratching your head thinking, “I know him/her from somewhere.” Meeting someone and connecting immediately and wondering how you became so close so fast when there are people in your current life you’ve known for years, and you still can’t connect with.
I don’t think that anything happens at random. I believe that our lives are a script. The minute we enter this earth via that human capsule, we begin our script. We as parents are the keepers of this script until we can pass it on. Some never do, some take on it sooner than others.
We all have a purpose. Next time you look down on someone because of their appearance or their financial status or because they have no place to live, remember they arrived the same way you did and began their journey with the same idea. At some point, their chapter was about exactly that. To fill that space on that park bench, or that building step or that cardboard box.
I think life is one big stage, and we are all actors. We act every day. We lie, we tell the truth, we lie, to tell the truth, we’re not honest with ourselves, we smile at people who deserve a frown, and we frown at those who deserve a smile. Who gets it?
I wonder every day what my next line will be. I am constantly thinking something is going to happen. Maybe I feel what’s going on around the globe. Maybe it’s that bad energy I am receptive to? I can’t describe it. I don’t feel special. I think everyone has this gift. Some find it interesting, and some don’t care because there are more important things to do like hang with friends, drink, party, watch tv, sit on the couch, eat, sleep, sleep, sleep, do nothing. Bleh.
I don’t know how I will exit this stage or when, but I do know that when I do, I will get a standing ovation. I will walk in front of that crowd in front of those curtains for one last time, one last view, and people will cheer. Some will cry; some will appreciate all the great characters I have played. Some will wonder if I will be back. To be honest, I don’t want to. I am tired.
For once, I want to play in an empty theater. Hear my voice reverberate the way that piano did back in high school when I used to sneak into the auditorium and play to an empty place. Peace. Silence.
What part of your script are you playing now? Are you happy? Can you change it? Will people clap when you walk out in the end?
Think about it. I sure as hell do.