Perhaps the lull in ambition arises from a lack of discipline. Or some twisted overfocus on all that isn’t. Perhaps it is but a constant bout with, and of self-denial.

Or the truth, might be, I am simply terrified. Of my own life. Or of life as a concept closer to something whole. Petrified to incalculable apprehension as to make every objective eternally trapped in some future doomed to be alternate. And all the being that I’d blame as weighted chains are but the excuse that this ego effects to permit my indolent efforts. Slowly becoming the cynical old man, filled to overflowing with a plethora of ‘might have been’s.

But if any of that were true, even in the slightest- that would mean that it is all a choice.

Which, of course, my dear reader, would mean that there must be at least one other way for this story to go. And a singular alternative path would be the absolute minimum. The options could be numbered in the sort of quantities that quantum calculating folks might make query of. Every decision but a plaything of infinity.

So, I suppose, I should empty my existential pockets and consider what it is that I have, and what use might be made of it all. For forging the next best choice or chance with whatever tools I have at my disposal, be it improvised or otherwise, is the urge my continuity continues to follow.

Still armed with my wit and will, even when it might feel withered- I must admit there is at least a modicum of wisdom to toy with, as well. Maybe even a bit beyond my years, but even the years are stacked up in not an entirely insubstantial amount for the proportions of the average human lifespan. Plenty has been seen and heard, and felt, with enough of it tragic to sway anything too idyllic from ever taking ignorant hold of the helm. And yet, plenty enough good and grand and gorgeous to know that every once in a while, there might be a moment or more worth the industrious march forward. There are even ways to incubate a bit of bountiful benevolence. Having the right humans for a few fellowships is always helpful in that sort of quest. Even in the vast swaths of isolation- an eternal island, I am not. As many of us never truly are.

Fortune or fate found me upon the eclipsing western middle class, even if only in its death throes. And a few keen moves, even if costly, allowed the best steadying of my own socio-economic course. Even with affluent actors arguing against it, there holds some slightly enlightened morality upon my identity. And a few adjacent stances that might be more important than ever, even if uncertainty still remains about what can be done.

A few functioning implements and an organic being well enough to keep getting on with it. So, what then? What would be the way to, if not escape the grim fates, at least lay down a full life paving the way for some better steps to follow?

We have been told that times are tumultuous enough for the more horrid sorts of ideas to start coming into fermented being. Collapse from ignorance, decadence and depravity echo through each day while self-aggrandizing dignitaries deign themselves despots over our veiled state of dunces. And reward seems to stem from behavior more towards the selfish than the service beyond the self. The id spawned evils erupt, while the meek seem to inherit closer to crumbs than even a meager slice. Cruelty and concession to lesser impulse finds idolatry while kindness and consideration kick cans down the road, away from all the light and sweeter sways.

But even a world of bad ideas, it still one of ideas. And the best of our thoughts and intentions that have made it to us through the ages, all were once nearly or entirely nothing. Even just as little as some glimmering ember lying inexplicably in a few hearts. Or even just one. That can be enough to eventually set some blaze of clarity and conscience down the path of all incoming tomorrows. Bright enough to guide the next minds, potentially better minds- to the best lit and lasting light to an ever-expanding consciousness and community. So easily and often we assume that to commune is a state trapped within a time period. But even the slightest bit of abstraction allows the realization that ideas span time in ways that no mortally coiled consciousness could even manage. The past, she speaks to us. Which means we must figure something worthwhile to cast into the futures that we will never know.

So, by the din of my own self-invention, I choose to be more.

Each attempt, if nothing else, opening the way unto the next. And even if the path is a simple fork, the opportunity for change remains. For whatever crossroads we might find ourselves upon, we must remember all the alternatives that got us here to begin with. Which means reason stands to argue that other ways might always be got at. Even if the haze of the present corrupts the clarity, there is always a choice. And with each choice, a chance. And with each chance, there is the potential for anything. Even something that couldn’t be seen from where the road beneath our feet might currently be.

So, onward, if you will. And if you won’t, well, then I will. And once the day comes that I can no longer, there might be enough of this story of mine for someone else to make some sense that my own existence kept shrouded from me. Or so goes the hope. And so many times in this human story, just having the hope is enough to take the next step. Who knows? It could be some paradise just beyond the horizon. If not for ourselves, at least for those that might call all of us ancestor.