Rock, Block

You know, I used to think there was divine providence  humming around around me all the time.  I would catch it, occassionally, like a firefly in July.  I'd be poor, on my last dime, and for no particular reason my parents would send me a hundred dollars.  I'd be stuck in a K-9 cop car, hitching a ride to the nearest gas station with my boyfriend's pot contraband stuffed into my backpack and the dog barking furiously in the backseat and the officer never suspecting.  I'd be suffering a nuclear explosion of fear before a flight takes off and the person next to me showed kindness.  I'd found someone, a friend, who told me once to close my eyes, see comfortable, and open them and look into the mirror in front of me, so I could see what comfortable looks like.  I would find a safety valve friendship who would save me from doing worse to myself.  Divine providence.  A footbridge, not a magic carpet.

The line has been disconnected for me the past 6 months. I've been doing some rearranging, negotiating, and its led to a sort of fog in the air.  I pray it hasn't been chopped, merely unplugged.  I don't see it, therefore it's not there.  And then tonight, by a fluke, which is the preferred delivery method of divine providence, I read something from a gem of a not-very-often-heard-from author quoted in a story I've been reading.  And it reminded me, I may feel deadened, but I'm still here.  I may not feel like writing, but I still feel like I have something to say.  And it winked at my very despair at feeling all of this, which is exactly what I needed. 

"You are a little soul carrying around a corpse." Epictetus


Why, yes.  Thank you for noticing.  With fondest thanks to two question marks.
*completely off the cuff, never read-over, unedited post.  if you don't like it or can't understand it, so sorry.