Are you surprised how you turned out?

Some are, some aren’t. Some view their progression with the assurance of hindsight: whatever was had to be. Others blink at their passage dumbfounded.

Why these different views?

I began my career confident as an arrow whirring toward its mark. That was my dad’s doing. I’d been born into a destiny as he had. I’d be measured by how well I played my role, not by what role I played. All sorts of improper possibilities were barred. Such imaginative restraints restrict many children.

I performed as expected for a while, an automaton of expectations. My dad was dead but still watching. I wanted to outperform him, beat him at his own game. I only realized this after. At the time, I believed I was making my own unhindered choices. Marionettes suffer a similar delusion of freedom.

Then I passed the age my dad was when he died – 47. I had no footsteps to follow, no forebear to best. I disliked where I’d landed in life. Why not be someone new?

I launched my dinghy onto an ocean. My dinghy was an RV and my ocean was America. I had no idea what lay ahead, not even a plan. I loved to write and needed to love – these I knew. Now what?

I got lucky – but might not have. No destiny gusted me, just chance. This realization humbled me. I was a passenger in my own life. My freedom was to settle in and pray.

Those who imagine their conclusion preordained have never had their horse shot from under them. A near-death experience may be life’s profoundest blessing, for it frees us to become whom we might. Rescued, we restart: now what?

Options make life a thrill-ride. Obedience is boring. Many prefer boredom to suspense, it’s easier. Others relish uncertainty, the heroism of having to choose. Makers may be the most indurate risk-takers. A maker must make new, but what does that mean? Yikes!

I have no idea who I am, where I’m headed, or why. What a copious gift! Every day an adventure. I make plans, but with a bemused eyeroll. “Mann tracht un Gott lacht,” goes the Yiddish adage; “Man plans and God laughs.” They got that right.

I grieve for all prisoners, especially those who’ve imprisoned themselves. They’re stuck doing what they think they must, believing what they’re told. Success or failure, good or bad, as defined, judge their every move. They may deem themselves free but it’s free only to march and salute.

Is it scary not knowing who you are or where or why? Only if you let it be. I used to be scared: I would disappoint those expectations I was born to serve! Then I drew the curtain on my father’s gaze. Presto, the expectations were gone. I was Huck Finn on his river raft soaking in the present. The past had vanished, the tide would take care of the future, the sun was warm – enjoy!

We live in an angry time. Why are we angry? Because we’re dissatisfied. But with what? Our physical wellbeing? That’s true for some, but for many more it’s their status, pride, some goading grievance. Don’t they deserve better?! This surly self-importance makes them sullen. They lash out at their oppressors when they’ve oppressed themselves.

I deserve nothing. That frees me to be glad of all I have – and grateful. While I shudder for the peace and safety of the world, I will not let that dread despoil, like a harpy, my happy heart.