Consider Fate
I can’t think of harmony without thinking about the process of growing up; the teaching, the learning. Think about the marriage of different instruments, think about the chords struck between a voice and an accompaniment. One can ebb and flow in counterpoint and rhythm with the other. Listen to how one can suddenly fall off, honoring the flight of the other — inherent in the relationship is the magic that can take both beyond the merely ordinary. Then there is youth, and learning, and the harmony true growth requires. There is teaching, and there is no harder task in the world. If your soul waits enough, you’d find that everything that strives towards some sort of achievement, and harmony, has its roots in relationships, and how things and people and events — so like musical elements — can grow into their own, to juxtapose into…fate?
My ear was glued to the sounds of the stereo in our living room, tugged away from doing other things by the music whose beat and rhythm had my heartbeats, even my breathing, in tune — caught away into a torrent of the minute; no two thoughts seeking to find each other, no two impressions seeking closure. Just living for the moment, and all the threads of my life flapping free, like dancing, leaping golden notes that rang true and undiscordant.
When the moment was past, I slumped back into the depths of my chair in front of the computer. Shivered. Drained. Filled…
To stare into an “instant message” window that sprang at me with a question. It was someone weighted down, seemingly, with a question from another acquaintance…
“What is fate? Do you believe in it?”
What a strange time for questions, right after gloating over a piece of music; right when both my physical and spriritual frames were still shivering, after being held spellbound by the only cacophony that my heart could accept without resistance.
Fate is a resolution of two events clashing. In the context of this speculative monologue, it is a point in time where traveler and destination merge. It is an inevitability, like death, that our dramatic tendences attach a lot of connotations to.
Predetermined? Who knows? Do I believe in it? I don’t know. Should I? Should we?
Some would say that our lives are shaped by fate. Some postulate we determine the shape of our fate. I believe the ones who learn best, the ones who teach best; these people, to a huge extent, are the most prepared to determine a resolution to the most basic question of fate. The freedom and latitude we were given while still learning, determines how we shape the necessary language to cope — for that precise moment when our lives intersect with any given destination, whether fate indeed shall shape us, or we conjure fate into configurations of our making…
Ugh! Heck with this…lemme get back to listening…
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