It’s Groundhog Day, and tonight (as an annual ritual), I treat myself to the movie of the same name, another of my favorites. I will watch Bill Murray, an arrogant a-hole, relive the same day over and over. I will laugh and wince as I share his surprise, amazement, disbelief, the precognition, growing frustration, and his tenacious ability to hold fast to his off-kilter, self-centered view of the world.
Only this time, just maybe, I will get the punchline, and admit to my Self that I am stuck in an unending loop – my own, personal Groundhog Day. Best-laid plans and Acme be damned, I am Wile E. Coyote, locked in pursuit of the effortless, ever-elusive, Road Runner. Meep meep.
A tetherball, I swing blithely through time, in ecstatic motion, until the post approaches and - too late – BAM, we collide. Recoiling, I unravel to hang limp and lifeless, until the next round. A brave steed on a carousel, I am dressed for battle, riding the greasy pole until drunk and dizzy, but never manage to escape the paddock.
If we humans are lucky, we learn early in life to let go of expectations – of who we think we are "supposed" to be, and what we're told we "should be" doing.
If we are lucky, we’ll let go of the whys and wherefores, and learn to love the dance, the pursuit, the ups, the downs, the song. We will give ourselves to the ecstasy of trying, of flying, the resounding thud when we hit the inevitable wall, and the never-ending supply of childless wonder.
And if we are very lucky, the monotonous will become glorious; the predictability, reassuring; the constancy, cathartic.
Is it any wonder, as magnetic beings, on a magnetic planet spiraling through space, we spin along with it, ever seeking the light?
Cue the movie!
That Rebel, Olivia J. Herrell, writing as O.J. Barré
O.J. Barré is author of the Blessed Are the Peace Makers trilogy. Book One, Coming Home, is finished. The first draft of Book Two, Coming To, is nearing completion and Book Three, Coming Full Circle, is swirling in the mists of creation.