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epilogue [2021/04/17 14:12]
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-[[my_memoir|My Memoir]] 
-Although this is //my// memoir, my collection of stories and narratives, my life, it is not mine to own. I have no say in my birth and apparently not much say in my death. All the narrative between these moments is really not my own. Whether God, fortune, fate, Allah, Thor, Freya, Biame, Mother, who or whatever, there is more at work in these narratives than me. It took a while to really see this. Only when I saw myself, perhaps for the first time, in that mirror at Paddy's Markets did I also see, really see, the wider universe I am a speck within in.  
-The decisions and choices driving my narratives give out ripples that become a part of the narratives of other people. "Sometimes for good, sometimes for ill" But without fail, for something. This memoir would be little more than an egotistical ramble. I can only write about the ripples that I have some knowledge of, and then only some.  
-Importantly, I have no control over these ripples. So any chain of events I describe says nothing about me but only about what or whoever watches over this thing we call our lives. The reality of my relationship with God, my Lord and Lady, leads me to feel awed and humbled that I am a part of such event chains. That in seeking to love God, and my neighbour’s, as I do myself, some magick happens and creates something more than myself. 
-This evening I took the latest bag of rubbish from the laundry to the wheelie bin out in the front yard. On the way back inside I paused and looked at the Yuca tree that was B's latest planting. A rescue plant obtained from one of K's care workers. This plant had belonged to that person's mother and was important to them. However, being important and being looked after are two quite different things. So the plant was given to B to look after, based on B's reputation for reviving plants. The reputation being built in the growth of the garden that came with this house that I really did not want.  
-So, my breakdown led to the finances that provided a home for B and K, my long term housemates, which enabled B to create a garden, which became a home for this Yuca tree, and looks like rescuing an important memory for K's care worker. A chain of events, a ripple in the pond. Out of my control but a fruit of the choices and decisions I made. Wow. 
-That of course is not the only such ripple. My gender transition, particularly in my workplace at the time, had several ripples I'm aware of the beginning of.