Whatsoever Victory May Come

Watching the World Cup lately has been during a lull in the great frenzy of activity and travel I have undertaken lately. It was as if I wanted to try out this new-found ability to live this way, to take a victory lap of sorts.

I feel so far away from where I was even two years ago. Somehow whatever journey I started out on, really did have the salubrious result of catapulting me several chapters forward in life.

Old wounds that dogged me for years have melted away. Things that happened long ago, but which still ached in my soul as if recent, now seem to be far away in the past, as they are.
I can't deny that I feel like one of the luckiest people on the planet. No, I don't mean in the quasi-religious Cultural Marxist sense of what they call "privilege," except as it pertains to being an American, born about the time I was, give or take a couple decades.

Each one of us that falls into that category---no matter what your station or situation---is amazingly lucky in a comparative sense to how most of the rest of humanity has lived, is living (although somehow it has produced in the West one of the greatest historical epidemics of whiny belly-aching of all-time, yours truly not excluded).

Rather when I say "lucky" I mean it in a more personal sense---of having the pleasure of meeting the people I have met, and gotten to know. Also in getting some personal lucky breaks at very opportune times.

Above all I mean "lucky" in the sense of having stumbled, by the Grace of Something, upon the secret of forward and upward propulsion of one's spirit through the cosmos towards some state of being more satisfying, more enriching, more alive than anything I could have consciously imagined when I started.

It's about getting from Point A to Point B, really, by the force of will, and by spontaneous imagination, and by the mercy of the Whatsoever-force-churns-fate.

It's very individual. It's very subjective. For me, it took getting in a car and taking to the road for a while.  There was also lots of self-reflection, and at times very painful reorientation of the way I perceived my self and my role in the Giant Beyondselfness in which we all navigate. For others it would be different, I suppose.

Whatever I get to write about my life from here on out, that anyone else might read, I hope it's a testament to what I just said. Anything less seems like it would be a waste of time.