A Quote from Emerson

“The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be-” Ralph Waldo Emerson (keepinspiring.me)

Decisions and choices.

And, consequences of our decisions and our choices.

Some like to argue that we are at the mercy of invisible forces beyond our control: economic, societal, geographical, et cetera and so forth. And, of course, there is some validity to those arguments.

However, at what point do we take charge of our own destinies and put our foot down and decide how we shall live?

When do we decide our own destinies rather than relinquishing our power to invisible forces that tell us that we are weak and something else controls us?

It is certainly not easy in this life with so many factors influencing our lives, but we do have vast reserves of power in our souls. God gave each of us a spirit of courage; we are not to be afraid. We are to be joyous and we are not to give into despair.

We have power. We have power to decide our destinies.

So, the next time you feel that you have limited power remember that you do have power; you have power to decide your destiny.

But, remember there are consequences for each of your actions.

To chart your own destiny is to be prepared to make choices and to accept the consequences of your actions.

So, consider the words of Emerson. Think about your destiny. Who do you want to be? How do you plan to be that person? What daily steps do you plan to take to reach your goals?

Don’t give into despair and relinquish your power. Stand tall, plan, be strong.

Know that God is with you; you are not alone.

Be joyous. Be courageous. Chart your own destiny.

It’s within your power to reach your goals.

Step out on faith; get started.

Now.

Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2022

Unexpected Encounter

silhouette of person in airport
Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

Terminal A West, Philadelphia Airport,

I lumber along the concourse laden with heavy bags,

faces blur around me like kaleidoscope renderings.

From out of the crowd, his face jars me, transports me back to another time.

I am immobilized by turquoise shadows falling from his familiar eyes.

“I know you,” his voice calls across the trajectory of four decades and reverberates and reawakens someone I used to be.

I call his name; I drop my bags. Awkwardly we share a brief embrace. Strangers push past us.

Tossed backward into time, memory of us, of a night long, long ago on a moonlit stretch of beach.

Over Starbucks coffee, he tells me of his father’s dying in Albuquerque, of his third ex-wife. I tell him of my failed attempts at publishing my great American novel, my inability to find true and lasting love.

He sips his coffee, glances at his watch, fails to speak.

I struggle to find the words to replace those spoken forty years ago. He  stands in my memory at the edge of the sidewalk in that old apartment complex with moonlight shining against his handsome face, rain slowly tapping against my windowpane.

He looks up from his coffee, speaks. “I think you should have stayed. I really loved you. I really did. We were young back then. I guess we had to go and conquer our dreams.”

I nod, gather my bags. Sorrow drowns me. The past cannot be undone. Words cannot be unspoken.

He stands; we quickly embrace. We fail to exchange numbers.  So accustomed to failure, I resign myself to the loss of him. I let him go. I let him go.

So damned long ago, I let him go.

 

Copyright 2019 Jenny W. Andrews