Change?

I just took a break at work to skim some journals. I love being pounced on, and this lead me to the Highwayman’s journal. And for whatever reason it dawned on me that I need to change the title of my journal.

You see, it seems for some time now, some couple of years, I have not been sitting on the grange point.

I’ve been actively engaging in the fray.

And had little opportunity, it seems, for detached contemplation.

This leaves me somewhat divided.

I’ve certainly chose to come down off the wall (down from about 5 degrees above ecliptic, actually), it was not something thrown at me; though once I left the relative safety of that isolation, I have had little control since.

And until very recently, haven’t considered seriously returning to that perch. So I must be here, in this malstrom of life and love, by my own desire.

And yet, I am torn both by a memory of life that once was (which is looking back, which is usually a waste) and by the nagging sense of the unknown — of opportunity cost. Or opportunity lost.

As a reserve (to be used occasionally), not a resource (in continual use), I’ve always been one to dash out from safety, strike a significant blow, then return to safety to observe and plot (this is the strategic intelligence of the NT typeology). And even more so, very much so, recently I have felt that I have been “out of my hole” for too long. I am weary from this pace. Drained. Strained. Stale, in some ways.

I lack perspective.

Yet, with a smile I admit that in my tiredness I’ve become sloppy, more laid back, carefree. I’ve learned some important lessons which I might have learned through observation, but at least I didn’t pass them by. I’ve met new people, known them in new deep ways… and its been fun to have carried the ball a time or two. Made plays that have made an impact.

So I am torn.

Play fast and loose with time and space. Or sit back and watch the show.