Franz Kafka is reported to have called Fate anything that cannot be avoided, that which is inevitable. The first thing we think of, of course, is death. This may sound grim but I find humor even in inevitability. It is an ironic, cruel humor. We make elaborate plans, and “Poof.” The juxtaposition of forethought with a lack of control creates a psychic shock. Momentarily, our plans are dislodged and we are imbalanced.
We are trapped in a circle of appreciation of life’s inherent value, and denial of its transitory nature. Vaguely aware of the paradox, we replicate this cycle over and over again in our daily lives.
We cut flowers from our gardens, place them in a vase on our table, and admire their beauty as they wither and die.
The clock is always ticking, and the alarm can go off at any time. Do we wake-up and embrace today or hide, under our pillows, from the uncertainties that surely await us?