Friday, December 09, 2005
Lines are straight and swift between the stars
In a positively Standish O'Gradian fashion, in a state of fairly high drunkenness on the train between Pitäjänmäki and Leppävaara I was wondering what way ever there could have been to extrapolate from that quietest of quiet villages in the summer of 1968 to this place and moment in time, through those paths and those landscapes, and concluded that lines are not straight nor swift between the stars. Strange, very strange our lives are: who could have ever foretold such a story?
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You were referring to Standish James O'Grady, the Irish writer and socialist from the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th centuries? I was wondering if you were feeling a kinship to his tradition of thought. I guess your post was about wondering how your life came to be what it is and how fate throws us around. The mystery of life and how a complete change of environment changes the person.
Indeed, life seems to be a chaotic process: there is no way to forecast individual fates, almost an unlimited amount of factors are interacting unpredictably. So, lives are strange, no-one is the master of his or her fate. Standish O'Grady I got from Yeats: "supporting himself between two tables"...
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