Cliche cliche cliche

Cliches are cliches for good reason - pride comes before a fall is the cliche which came and snapped at my feet his week. Here's me thinking I'm on top of life, following bliss, learning to be kind, rising above petty nonsense, blah..... And then crash. The details of what happens aren't what matter, all the matters is I hit a wall. I must have let pride sneak in. 

Here’s some things I’ve learned...

1.       If I start to see someone as a potential new mate then the old flame I never quite got over will almost inevitably reappear on the scene as if by magic.

2.       If I ever think even for a moment that I am somehow better than anyone or above a certain situation, I will be taken down, usually by a small but embarrassing ‘fail’ in front of an audience.

3.       I don’t have to tell someone I’m becoming more interested in them or that I’m not.

All of these would seem normal lessons if I was 13 or 14. Not quite so great given I am a great deal older than that and either haven’t learned these things til now or, more likely did know them once, then forgot. Duh.

I started this blog as a bid to record attempts and failures to stretch my boundaries, to become bigger and better in life, in everything. I want to transcend the stupidest time-wastingly desperately tedious nonsense such as 1, 2 and 3 above.

I hoped to document that it was possible to rise above nonsense, to become bigger hearted, to live 100% conscious that we are all one, that life is bliss, full of joy and promise. And to somehow manage it while not on drugs (if you don’t count the wine, because we all know the “we are all love” stuff is not just possible on drugs, it’s kind of mandatory).  

I wanted to reach out and leap into this place and I will try again, but let’s just say for January 2014 I have become a lot more wrapped up in silly stuff than I’d hoped. Before the first month is out, my head has been turned, I’ve had a bout of jealousy so severe I had to leave the room and stomp around the block; I’ve become wrapped up in minutiae I had assumed, arrogantly, I had risen above (cue flagstone to trip over); I’ve fallen for a cliché life, like a wedding album with artful shots of shoes in black and white. The photos seem to be meaningful, an attempt to tell a story – here is my big day; here are my beautiful shoes – but the images themselves have become clichés and so, ultimately, devoid of meaning. That is what I want to avoid, becoming  a cliché, devoid of meaning.   

Roll on a new week.