Cruising the river

Looking out the drawing room windows upon the nearby grey and mournful river evokes a sharp contrast from yesterday’s limitless sunshine, dazzling blue water and azure skies. It is a simple and fruitful reminder of the platitudes to which we unwittingly accustom ourselves. The moral lesson is the more easily digestible today in particular because it opened with an element of beneficence.  We in turn reciprocated (itself a matter of lingering social profit and uplifting civility). The ensuing afternoon has been an agreeable re-enactment of typical communions. The day’s performance began drawing to close late afternoon with an impromptu repositioning to a serious analysis of gratitude. And if I recall correctly, within that forbidding dialogue surfaced the mention of prayer (though somewhat apologetically). The Church of England is deeply rooted.

The older I become, the more simply am I inclined to see the world. It nonetheless persists to be a great deal more complicated than even the more direct and unadulterated vision might enable. It’s rather like looking at atoms and molecules; viz., we have a pretty clear idea how it all began but we’re less certain about what it is to become or where it will end.  That is one of those Janus-faced objectives; both directions are arguable and utilitarian but we’re never certain which of them to trust.

It may be nothing more pragmatic than the weather, good today, bad tomorrow. I am however inclined to believe that most of our critical decisions are guided by more than the roll of a die. The unfortunate feature of those critical decisions is that for the most part they have to come from us (even if partly instructed or guided by the suggestions and opinions of others). This is for two reasons. Nor, might I add at the outset, are the reasons axiomatic. The only thing self-evident about acuity is that there are always different ways of doing the same thing. And although I am uncertain how precisely to say this or to make it appear useful, there is very little possibility that anyone knows better than you what you should do. I’m not saying everyone else is an idiot. No, I’m just saying you’re an idiot to think they know any better than you what is good for you. And then there’s always that caution: Have you seen what they’ve become!

The sky has begun to clear.  The clouds are breaking.  Soft baby-blue lines contrast with the residual streaks of ashen-coloured blankets. Maybe it really is as mercurial as the weather!