Well, that wasn’t the news I wanted to hear. But, in the reality of life, guess what? I took a wicked curve ball.

I was prepared, alright, or at least I thought I was. For weeks now, I’ve expected that ball hard and fast, straight down the line, into the center of the glove. I had it all planned out, and in it’s supposed foolproof assuredness, I tied it up with a pretty bow. But that damned cork, mummified in layer upon layer of seemingly flimsy yarn, entombed in white supple leather, and stitched up like Frankenstein’s Monster with shiny red string, that ball, came alive with a mind of it’s own. It came alive, veered left, and damn near knocked off my head. And that I wasn’t prepared for. And I was quite shocked.

So I took a rogue ball, it has snapped me back to attention, and here I am: Reassessing, reformulating, rearranging.

And here I go again, like Tawny Kitaen, straddling two jags, balancing between the one or the other, stretching, and flipping, to keep from falling off of either ride of life.

                    

(Figuratively speaking like Tawny, anyway- plus 30 years, a bunch of wrinkles, and saggy boobs. Oh, and I’m probably straddling more like a Toyota Yaris.)

While I can say that the particular challenge I’m faced with today was not specifically self-inflicted- whether consciously or otherwise, I can certainly recognize the power in the fact that I actually have the ability to inflict such challenges upon myself, in the first place. I have so often in my life been my own worst enemy, my ambition calling on my inner Charlie Brown to run like hell to kick that pigskin to the sky for the winning field goal, and my lack of belief in myself screaming at the Lucy in me to pull the ball away before it flies.

I’ll fall, I’m sure my inner psyche understands that consequence somewhere. And, surely if that’s the case, I can believe it also understands that I will get up and try again, just as Charlie Brown always did. And, surely if that’s the case, the same sadistic inner crazy bitch knows: I’ll yank the ball, and make myself fall yet another time.

The truth is, we all get struck by a curve ball from time to time- and certainly not all of them are self-inflicted. Life happens- as much to us as because of us.  You don’t have to believe that’s the truth, but it makes it no less so. Then again, ignorance and victimization are far easier than cognizance and responsibility, don’t I know it.

For my part, I‘ll get hit again by life, and as I go- and given a million other factors about where I reside along that path at that particular moment, I’ll determine how to handle it. No doubt, I’ll again play the parts of both Charlie Brown and Lucy, running fervently with a sense of purpose at a ball that I’ll swipe from my powerfully extended toes at the very last moment. And with every time I fall, as well as every time I rise, I will learn. And, as someone once famously sang, you live, you love, you cry, you lose, you bleed, you scream, you breathe, you choke, you laugh, you chose, you pray, you ask, you learn.

And, as well, I will teach- if only myself. Ever Charlie Brown. Ever Lucy.