Ever wonder about fate?  Things destined to happen that are not under your control?  (i’m not a superstitious person by the way, nor believe or deny anything I write about).

If we are going the old ways that some might practice to this day, we could be talking about the Greek Moirai (of course Roman too, but that’s a different tale). Slavic mythology has something similar, as are the Norns of Norse mythology.  We could go on forever.  But I will give the basics a go from Greek since that’s my favorite, although Norse is trailing behind ever so close.

Clotho(spinner of the thread of life), Lachesis (measured the string of life), and Atropos (the one who cut the thread of life).

What does all this mean?  This means to me, that since the early days of time people believed in fate.  That their path was set out for them and there was a reason for each choice they made, every good thing that happened, and every horrid thing that seemed to befell them. So the big question here, are you a believer in fate or that you truly make your own decisions?  If fate is your thing, then you must believe there is a certainly a destiny that falls for your reason for continuing on, even in these tough times.  If you are not, then you try to figure out when its time to change things on your own, whether you get off the bus, grab that brass ring, or go along for the ride.

I think there is something in between, but all in all our past shapes up into who we are, good or bad. When is enough truly enough?  How far do we let it go?  When do we say that enough is enough, or when is that breaking point.  How toxic are the things in your life that you can’t seem to shake (people, jobs, vices, etc)?

All those who know me, or wish to know parts of me, know that I grew up with a not-so-happy childhood.  It could be why I delved into so many books and began writing myself.  A great way to escape.  The night terrors alone brought forth waking in sweat but sometimes wonderful ideas.  Each event is a possibility of an emotion that can be added to my writing, although timing is the key on that one.  After childhood, I grew to an adult with some very crappy things that went on I know of one fellow friend who has gone through more than me and she is a trooper; I look up to her, truly and I love all that she is.  My life story could easily be a novel in itself but I don’t think I could muster up enough courage to do so and who would want to read a memoir anyway? I got vampires to deal with.   To this very moment there are good days and bad days.  The ones that make you want to smile and greet the warm sunshine or cry depressingly in bed not to be disturbed.  Then there is pissed off.  Those are the moments I feel like the Hulk and smash everyone and everything in my way.  Stress.  Oh goodness that S word.  We all deal with that; some better than others.  I fall in the middle.  Emotions, empathy, and the heart are strong things that can make life one of the three above (happy, sad, or mad).

Life stress is the worst.  Yes, I’m not downplaying the writing/working, especially those of us who KNOW IT IS NOT JUST A HOBBY (as some seem to say to us when we tell them what we do for a living, no matter how meager the earnings are possible).  Stubbornness doesn’t help the stress, but when one is determined and not ready to give up what is one supposed to do?  Giving up is not an option.  Eradicating the obstacles in the way is plausible but hard to do without going so far as ruining a good thing.  So that leads to being stuck.  Good days, bad days, many, many frustrating/pissed off days.

This leads back to the fates.  Do they exist?  Have they carved this out for us?  Do we choose our own path?  Does fate determine that a person has been knocked and beaten down so many times they feel their fate is to attempt to go with the lesser of the evils to keep a hold of the things that matter to them most. no matter how miserable they are?  There you are sitting on the sidelines, watching frustrated and ever so empathetic, not able to do a thing.

I will finish with the great poem The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost (who in actuality was meaning that no matter what a person chooses they end up in the same place anyway).

The Road Not Taken