I'm a very poor planner. My daily 'To Do' list may as well be written in invisible ink and blueprints for my future fade as soon as they're unfolded. And I'm pretty much legally blind when it comes to Vision Boards or manifestation maps.
Going forward, I'm just stumbling around in the dark with a faulty flashlight. Someone who shall remain nameless always neglects to replace the dead batteries. There are sleepwalkers with a better sense of direction than me.
Fortunately, I have a lucky star to follow. It's named Unsirius and sits in an obscure constellation called The Leprechaun, forming the tip of his long beard and illuminating that proverbial pot of gold.
How do I know it's my star? Well, it's only visible by observing the night sky through the wrong end of a telescope, from the middle of the Bermuda Triangle, and only when it's raining. I'm the only person who does that, as far as I know.
And how do I know it's also lucky? I don't get wet when I'm following it, that's how, even though I obviously didn't plan to bring an umbrella with me.
So I go here and there, wherever my star leads me. I do this and that whenever my star winks. And I remind myself, as Ralph Waldo Emerson claimed, that life is a journey and not a destination.
Being about mid-journey now, I've accumulated many pictures of roadside attractions along the many circuitous routes I've taken: memorable people I've met; breathtaking buildings I've visited; beautiful landscapes I've walked through; out of focus snapshots of good times I can't quite remember.
But mostly there's a scrapbook filled with selfies of me imitating a Mediterranean wayfarer disembarking from his private yacht. Perhaps that's who I've always wanted to be: the Sailor from Gibraltar approaching the Port of Shadows.
But ambition lost at sea, dream overboard, castaway on a desert island of what might have been. I lack the energy and motivation to maintain that kind of A-list lifestyle. I'm certainly a man of leisure these days. I just don't own a boat and couldn't afford to pay the crew anyway.
It's Spring now. The season of new beginnings. My star is shining on Erewhon Avenue, as usual, directly above the alfresco tables of the French cafe about halfway down the street.
Take a seat, the starlight seems to indicate, you've done enough already. The only plan you need to make this evening is when to move inside to the bistro after finishing your apéritif.
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