Possibility

Well. I sit here all by myself and I can’t help but think about the possibilities ahead. Most days, that’s all I can fathom. Possibilities. The mystery, the beauty, the hope – all intertwined and twisted into that one word “possibility”. And it feels so lovely to me. Purposefully, I allow my imagination to swim and brim over with thoughts, ideas, quiet desires, secret hopes…possibilities.

Life is an immense possibility to me. It always has been. I rather enjoy that about life, the fact that it remains a deep mystery. In my foolishness, I detest routine and I scorn people who adhere to it. Suspense, mystery, a beautiful unknowing: that is my life as of late, and the possibilities are endless. I don’t know where it will take me. I’m not completely aware of where it already has taken me. I don’t know, but it’s beautiful.

And in a way, these possibilities have been art, painting new hopes, erasing old fears, unveiling the painted masterpiece of human closeness. It has been lovely. In the deep unknowing, I have been forced to hold the hands of friends and family; for possibilities are always more beautiful when shared with other souls. Often, souls can skillfully paint their possibilities to us at the onset, and then artfully weave their way into our hearts. It can be subtle. It isn’t always quick. People can be honest, and yet utterly mysterious. Sometimes even honesty contains mystery. I like it. People are an endless possibility, and the possibility is mine.

Isn’t that the oddest beauty? Just the simplest possibilities whisper hope and breathe new beginnings. Nothing else may belong to me, but these possibilities do. It’s oddly wonderful. And yet dreadfully suspenseful. Who knows? No one can know, how these possibilities will all turn out. We don’t know where the possibilities will lead, and we don’t know how this book will end. In my case, I have painted the front-cover of this book. I have written the prelude; maybe even the first chapter. I have begun to retell the stories of brokenness, beauty, hope, and utter humanness. I have felt this story. And the possibilities make the story unpredictable.

Sometimes I wonder about the next chapter. I don’t know what’s in it. But that's okay, you know? Who knows how this will end?

And we really never know how it will end.

…I suppose that’s another one of those possibility-thingies.