A friend at work commented today that she is trying to figure out her calling…she’s getting involved with a healing practice and is thinking of shifting her responsibilities around to make more time for it.
I wonder, sometimes, if I should do the same thing.
More to the point, if I had continued on the path of full time artist I was on in the late Seventies, early Eighties, where would I be today?
Would I be “self-sufficient”, or “solvent”, or otherwise “successful” in some financial sense?
Or even in some “non-financial” sense? Would I be “better” at my writing?
There really isn’t any point to this regretful rumination, of course. We are where we are at any given time based on our own choices, and I could no more think of myself as the same person in different circumstances as I could consider myself as a snail, or an accountant.
Which is what my friend is, by the way. An accountant. Not a snail.
Poem to follow.
Dark Matter 
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