Angles of Impulse

Look at situations from all angles, and you will become more open.
– Dalai Lama

Every January when the cold winds begin to swirl, I practice the geometry of impulse. Often fueled by boredom or the let down of holiday expectations, I whip up a cocktail of beginnings enticed by possibility. I book flights of fancy and distant destinations in perfect conflict with the mundane. I’ll make the deadline, I figure, I’ll show up for class in California by 7 pm straight from LAX, in spite of the 24 hour flying time from say Kenya via Amsterdam with touch down – and who cares about time zones when you’re that far gone.

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.
–  Lucius Annaeus Seneca

I’ve planned two nuptials in January and pulled off one. The second one slid into February but still an Aquarian deal. And with the first one who gave me a garnet ring (the birthstone for January when I’m a Libra) I found myself standing on the threshold of a rerun – two continents, five countries, and four decades later (this time a silver paisley ring.) But fate intervened. Yet in an auspicious January snowstorm I gave birth to my first child by the second one – marriage not rerun. I’ve twirled prayer wheels (with endless knot at the center) in the first month of the New Year, reached spiritual heights and stalked leopards in the night. I’ve flowed along the currents of the Amazon in January, bought trinkets, sold valuables and ventured island escapes. To ring in the New Year, I’ve arranged constellations of clandestine assignations urged by the moon and the tides. In my heart I try to make all the angles converge but it’s tricky – my geometry of extremes.

This New Year started off with a bang – well actually by swabbing my late December holiday wound. You couldn’t have orchestrated the timing of the 2 x 4 whacking my forehead while I ascended the cliff on a slow moving tram. Not even a director could have synced the scene with such precision – the dude wielding the timber and swinging on cue. I’ll leave my poetic response up to you.

It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
– William Shakespeare

Yes, I agree with the Bard, destiny lies within, but I can’t quite let go of the stars. Take nuptial one from the far side of the Atlantic to the wilds of Canada. Enveloped in a haze of immaturity with a desire to carve my destiny, I examine the angles – indulge the moonlight. And I’m gone. And then I’m not. Two continents, five countries, 121,486 air miles in 24 months, and four decades later on a cobblestone street across the North Sea, I breathe in the damp air – wondering who steered us there. A second chance to get it right. A knot. Until from the shores of the Mediterranean, we’re not. In a flash, a heart stops – and he’s gone. Now I can only hold him in the stars. Fate or fault? In the case of the forehead fiasco, I’m mindfully heading up the slope when whack comes the hit and the rush of bleeding gash. Incident or accident? Or maybe Karma with gifts from the guilty. Ah, the endless knot.

 Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.
– Albert Einstein

But I’m back on the high wire practicing my stealth. It’s still early in the month of beginnings – still a few weeks to stir up my pulse. If I had more time, I’d make this shorter and fill in the gaps. I’d tell you about other January fractures and falls from grace that took me to a better place. I’d tell you about all my brilliant mistakes. I’d render nocturnal escapades on sea worn rocks in deep indigo – let you inhale the salt in the breeze. In gold and silver, I’d teach you how to tie and untie a knot. I’d show you how to divine auspicious moments – spring a chance. Practice the geometry of impulse – find your balance. But I’m restless.

Still, after luring you on this untamed ride, it’s only fair I share with you a recipe to glide into the new year. It will depend on your angle how you measure the ingredients and it’s up to you to discover them. But here you go. My cocktail of spirits includes a stash of Karma to temper a kiss of Kismet – with a handful of knots to do with as you will. Optional to consider a touch of nature’s Providence. To this add shots of impulse to radiate energy – keep the zing. You can even revel in the luminosity of starlight sprinkled on the edges. But to shape your destiny, you must engage the secret to the potion – and give it all you’ve got. Free will – boundless free will!

Cheers!

Life is like a game of cards. The hand you are dealt is determinism; the way you play it is free will.
– Jawaharlal Nehru