Relative Something

How hard could it have been to accomplish what it was we set out to do the first time we landed one of those moments of inspiration that transcend the usual impulse to disavow any knowledge of the reason for following more of our intuition than logic reasonably allows? Not that I know anything about that. For all the solutions that appear to fit the formula for fixing the multitude of sins, it ends up being the least anticipated outcome that evades our lucky glance and smashes into view unannounced behind a shower of highly volatile serendipity that is casually disregarded in a quest to out-think surprises for some vain simulation of what we think reality is supposed to be. Slowly, but surely, the rest of what is destined to transpire, in spite of our noble attempts to engineer obedient allowance, falls precisely where it would obviously land anyway, whether or not we try to orchestrate it. Having the stamina to outwait the ultimate momentum of outcomes is like knowing the secret of which one of the many answers is the actual meaning of everything that is anything. How hard is it to mine the courage to become better than that which could easily be considered adequate by all standards? It hides within the smile that is shared, as much as with the eyes as with the whole of the rest of our being and shines much farther than we ever imagine might be possible. Or not. It’s hard to tell for sure from this angle.