We've all asked ourselves that question (or something similar) at one time or another. What if I'd gotten that job/promotion/lucky break? If only I had/hadn't done/said this or that. How might my life have turned out differently? It's not always a question of regret, though. Sometimes it can be the opposite - an opportunity to appreciate how good we have it when we realize how easily things could have gone wrong. Perhaps you narrowly escaped what would have been a deadly accident, or you were saved from going down the wrong path by someone who cared enough to set you straight.
I've always been intrigued by the "what ifs," especially as it relates to finding a mate. There are any number of things that could prevent two specific people from meeting and having a chance to fall in love, and just as many variables that must line up exactly right in order that they will. For example, my husband and I met in high school. But, if his parents had bought house "A" instead of house "B" when he was a kid, the two of us could have ended up in different towns. In that case, would destiny have seen to it that we found each other anyway, or would we each be happily (or unhappily) married to somebody else today?
These kinds of questions are at the very core of the book I'm currently writing and even appear in the two I've already completed. In
For Myself Alone the heroine expresses this thought in the final chapter: "I marvel when I think that this auspicious outcome hinged on the unlikeliest string of circumstances ... Indeed, had events not unfolded exactly as they have, my lot might have been quite different." She's in a count-your-blessings frame of mind. Taking a more negative view is Mr. Wickham in
The Darcys of Pemberley: "Had it not been for a cruel accident of birth, I should have been the master of Pemberley instead of a lowly tenant." Elizabeth wisely counters with: "By the same logic, Mr. Wickham, you or I could just as easily have been born beggars. Speculation of that sort is pointless." Pointless perhaps, but it makes for an interesting discussion or story line.
As my title bar indicates, I'm a bit of an artist as well as an aspiring author. And it's about time I said a little something about that side of the picture. Much as I love writing, I cannot resolve to confine myself to only that one creative pursuit. Why should I? Variety feeds the soul, and there's so much that interests me. The same principle applies to my artwork. To be limited to one style or subject would be stifling. So, I experiment with many different mediums (watercolor, acrylic, pastel, pen and ink, collage) producing work ranging from realistic to totally abstract. The two examples I'm showing you today (titled "Tuberose" and "Cave Painting") belong somewhere in the middle. When I starte
d each of them, I had no preconceived idea of what they would become. I just began by pouring paint on the paper, letting the colors mingle and run where they would. As a pleasing image suggested itself, I enhanced it enough to be recognizable, hopefully without destroying the free-flowing simplicity of the original design. It strikes me now that this might be a pretty good metaphor for how children should be raised. Rather than forcing them to conform to an artificial pattern laid out for them ahead of time, we would do well to instead gently guide them along positive channels, allowing their own unique beauty of body, mind, and spirit to emerge. Pardon me for waxing so philosophical. But you were warned. After all, this blog's title tells you that this is home to my "collected ramblings." I figure that gives me a free license.
