Destiny: Nothing Is Ever Wasted (so tell the Snoring Man that please)

I was watching an interview with Oprah, who was talking about all the events in her life that took her to her present and she said that nothing is ever wasted. The comment struck a chord with me mainly because everything that is happening to me now seems to scream that at me.

Destiny places her hand on my shoulder as I listen to a friend tell me about her boyfriend and her absolute first time. She tells me the story but in between her words, I can reconstruct the feelings and I know he cares for her a lot more than her words let on. I am a storyteller. The Dramaturgist. I know direction, beats and timing in the theater house of Life. He has uttered the words as if he were reciting monologues from Shakespeare. Truths that will only come out at the end of the third act. An act I am eager to see play out.

And I think back to my first time and how fitting it was (I fell asleep) because of my free-spirited nature for telling stories and my ability to now laugh at myself. I know that for me, no other story would have been apt and in a way, I am proud of having a first that was unforgettable for all the wrong reasons.

I read about savvy, space-reduced dwellings that are well-decorated yet functional, built out of freight boxes, as I look at my blank walls and water-damaged living room of my present house. I hear my neighbor again, snoring as if he had a cat stuck in his throat and was wheezing on its fur, through paper-thin walls. And I imagine the painting I will have commissioned by a local artist I admire, hanging on the wall of a future dwelling. And I can admire it from the sitting area in the corner, where I can read and write.

Destiny nods in approval. She tells me I lost weight for my knees and because I had to throw out all those clothes and have as little baggage to take back with me as I can.

I will fly with the wings of a falcon, without ties to hold me. The smooth whistle of the wind wrapping around my shoulders as I follow the lead of a pack of wolves.

I am where I am because I still have things to learn and do.

Nothing is ever wasted. Good things nor the bad. But once, just once, I would like to climb over the wall and close the window so that the cat stuck in my neighbor’s throat can bother his wife. In full stereo.

Rafael Sanchez de Icaza: Mexican artist of my predilection

Rafael Sánchez de Icaza: Mexican artist of my predilection. Scanned from a book called “Las manchas del arte y El misterio de la insinuacion” by Jorge F. Hernandez.


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