Like Nick Carroway in The Great Gatsby or Samuel Johnson’s Boswell, you recognize there are characters and events whose larger-than-life status is larger than your own life and that your role, therefore, is to stand in the wings observing while they take center stage as the drama—and comedy, as well—unfolds.
It’s like communing around a fire that keeps burning hotter and brighter with the addition of one after another larger and larger log. It may be slightly uncomfortable to see how it continues to grow, but, on the other hand, the good news is that you get to bask in its glow and be warmed by its heat, despite the overwhelm.
As you settle into a more comfortable existence by the wayside, there are those in the center who are still in earlier stages of life’s adventure; they’re the ones who have all the best lines of dialogue and whose aspirations for whatever comes next keeps amusing. You tag along for the ride knowing full well you needn’t push for any particular destination; that’s going to be decided upon by those who prefer, at this time, to be well out in the front.
Our pioneer ancestors made it all the way west on the continent before turning back east a bit. The railroads followed, crossing mountains and prairies to the sea. Those who told that story may have lived it somewhat vicariously, but lived it nevertheless, they did. To be part of something bigger than oneself is to be bigger than oneself, even if oneself is a smaller portion of that bigger thing.
Right?
Gathering, then disbursing is the way of the world. Everything arises, then passes away. Here today, gone tomorrow, then who knows?
Maybe tomorrow back here, today somewhere else.
Dogs bark; caravan moves on.
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