October 10, 2005

Destiny.

In my many years here at the asylum, I've heard that word used a lot.  Some people seem to feel that the last chapters of our lives are already written, that what we face in our final hour is inevitable.  We may be able to choose what we do aboard a ship called FATE, but the ship has no steering wheel.  Where it takes us is out of our control.

Maybe.

I'm certainly not ignorant enough to deny my ignorance.  But I have seen too many choices to believe there is no steering wheel.  I myself have stood at major crossroads, choosing which channel to follow.  Some have led to a place of pride.  Others have taken me to regions of regret.  Nonetheless, I wore the captain's hat and turned the wheel.  Did destiny predetermine my choices?  If so, then I really never existed.

I've always felt that if there are uncontrollable forces shaping our lives, they're found more in the form of the waves that hit the hull or the direction the wind takes upon the sails.  My hands are firmly on the wheel, sometimes coasting, other times with muscles aching from pulling and pushing, trying to maneuver the ship in the direction of my desires.

Should we be fighting where life seems to be trying to take us?  I can't say for certain.  But from what I've seen, a ship left to the decisions of nature usually ends up crashing on a rocky shore.  My ship may end up in the wrong harbor, but it arrives safely all the same.