It’s an old day

Blank pages are easy to come by.  You can grab one from the printer or turn over a new leaf in the notebook.  Life, is not like a piece of paper or  even like an entire notebook.  If you think it is then you are harboring a delusion.  Sure, you can crumple up a messed up day and discard it, you will still have something else to scribble or doodle on tomorrow.  Your ballpoint pen will last a few months and your pencil is yet to be whittled down to the nub.  It is a disposable world and paper is still not scarce.

Fresh starts are cheap and you are easily lulled into a false sense of invincibility and a misplaced belief in infinite second chances and disappearing footprints.  In reality fresh starts do not exist and you do not walk away from anything.  What appears to be a fresh start is a consequence disguised as an opportunity in a lifelong construction project that can never outrun time.

You can build a spiral staircase for no other reason than a fascination with spirals or staircases or the golden ratio but when you learn that your fascination left you with stairs that have no purpose or destination, you are stuck with a folly that you then adapt or build around or let linger as a monument to un-reason. You can end up with doors that open up to walls or windows without views as you change or the world around you changes.  But any perspective demonstrates the consequential nature of all events, even the ones that appear mutually exclusive.  No actions get discarded.

We change everything around us for better or for worse even while just being.

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