be careful what you wish for

Tonight is beautiful.

The light is golden on the houses opposite mine.

The air is cool.

There are drifts of leaves piled up against my front door, in a prematurely autumnal sigh. The heatwave caused the drifts.

I want a lot from life. And, in moments, I can't see why I can't have it. I wholeheartedly embrace doorways and segues and laneways.

Some moments, I feel as though I do some sort of rapid zoom out and the things seem big and a little more vague and unpin-downable.

It pays not to look at the BIG. And just to concentrate on the now.

I roasted a small chicken on Monday night. I bought it at the slowfood market down the road at the Abbotsford Convent. I could taste the organic free-range difference.

Really. 

It had a very small wishbone. And it made me think of that saying, 'be careful what you wish for'. It's a strange saying. I guess it means that sometimes what we wish for is not always what we need and when we get what we wish for, the playing out of that can end up being not entirely what we imagined.

And yet, if we are intentional in what we pose to life, the universe, our imaginations, ourselves, well then we will undoubtedly get what we are wishing for. And perhaps what we need.

Sometimes it is hard to ask for what we want. Because we don't know how to ask. Or because we worry that, in asking, we expose ourselves to others and become vulnerable. Or because we don't know what we actually want.

I think we do know what we want. We are just sometimes looking at something else and get distracted. Or we mistrust our wanting.

This all sounds as though I am being heavy and attempting profound and specific statements.

And yet.

It's just what came to me tonight. When I opened my front door to put the rubbish in the bin. And I noticed the golden light on the houses opposite. And my feet crunched on the leaves at my door.