2012 is here and I can scarcely decide what to do with it.
It seems full of probability. Half-suggested paths and idea-snippets are jockeying for a position in the decision-making quarter of my self.
I can’t say “quarter of my brain”, because that is not the place where I make decisions.
The brain is where I take decisions and put them into plan-waves. Decisions are made further down in heart and stomach. I suspect Queen Elizabeth I knew about this anatomical quirk when she made that speech to her navy before the Spanish Armada’s attempted invasion. “I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too.”
My Dad always says, “muzzle not the oxen”. It’s Biblical (1 Timothy 5:18), and to my understanding refers to a worker being allowed fair wage for his work. Dad has the Theology degree, so to him it refers to the cook of a meal being allowed first dibs at second-helpings.
Shall we pay this decision-making, gut-feeling-ox-stomach the wages of legitimacy? Let us say that decisions made in our mid-riffery may often be the best. Let us, for the moment, ignore what we may have eaten and drunk these last days of Christmas feasting and New Year In-Ringing. Let us rejoice in our full abilities to waver, to ponder, to prevaricate, deliberate, meditate and even to run-like-a-bull-at-a-gate, if need be. Let us annoy our very selves while we stand at cross-roads and make decisions, slowly or rashly as the occasion demands. Let us hear the still, small voice of God, and thunder forward with hope; sometimes with the dignity of a well-trained cavalcade, sometimes like a whooping loony.
And let us, perhaps, as nice as it was, not feed me Pepperberry Gin, ever again.