Glimpse into life's forks on Monday April 8th, 2013

As I sit here at my laptop, the rain bellowing above me on the tin roof, the beautiful sounds of Vivaldi, Handel and their fellow genius composers accompanying my keyboard taps beside me, and the contents from my mug of hot tea warming my belly, I am contemplating that we call life, and the intention behind it. Deep, I know. Maybe a little too deep for a Monday afternoon. But what is one to contemplate when alone on a rainy day? I have no other plans for the day, let alone the week, due to unpredictable health issues that can one minute give my body its freedom, and the next have it falling deeply between the couch cushions, hoping the world will stop its noisy spinning.
Early last year something happened to some people who are very special to me, and it really made me question my beliefs of the notion that there is something, someone, bigger than us all, leading and guiding us through our journey. As most people do at some stage or another, I questioned that if there is such a being, then how can it bear to have us all suffer so much.
After the past few months however, I suddenly feel like so much has changed for me that I can not ignore the idea that something is guiding me. Everything that I have worked for, planned, lived and fought for was placed in a big metaphorical cardboard box, and shaken until there were only shattered splinters left inside. It feels like I had put myself on the wrong path, and someone or something was hinting and warning me, but I was ignoring its whispers, so it resorted to wiping my entire slate clean. Ignore me will you, it said. Take that.
So I suddenly find myself at the fork of a new path. The old one stretched temptingly to the left, the new one panning frighteningly to the right. It is impossible to ignore the upheaval and pass it off as a bump in the road.
I have decided I will take the road to the right. It is horrifying and exhilarating. But what I am learning is that when that fork does slam us in the face with its sharp prongs, we don't have to smash the old path up and throw it in a giant skip. We can take the pieces we choose with us. We can pick the memories, the lessons, the hopes and the people, and pack them up with us in our bags, and wear them on our backs, and their weight will keep us grounded and warned, warmed and strengthened.