Finding the Beginning, Middles, and Ends.

They always say the start is the easiest. It's safe, we all know how things begin, and we can revisit them over, and over, and over. That's what we always say in the writing world. Of course some people say they know the end or that they have some of the critical events along the way lined up, but, most of us? We have no idea.

I feel like I've been looking at a lot of ends lately, and, in turn, trying to go back to my beginnings. I refuse to throw out old shirts with holes, instead clutching them close, same with the socks that can't be sewn up another time. I organize and re organize letters from the past four years, laughing and smiling as if I were seeing them for the first time. But then my day actually starts and I have to face where I really am. At the end of that middle expanse that I swim through, and experience daily, but never take the time to reflect on. "It's still too close," I tell myself.

The truth is I like that middle part just as much as I like the beginning. But beginnings? they're definite. They're marked in read ink that I can trace from my bed to the storage unit in my mind. The middle is harder to place, which is funny, since we live most of our lives part way through the marathon than at the end or the starting line. And that middle is filled with tiny beginnings and tiny ends that are swallowed up by time and remade time and time again. Miss marked here and there (many times where I've said "this is where it all turns around" when, honestly, it really hasn't).

"Aye, there's the rub" though. The rub of the middle is that it doesn't stop and that while you're swimming through it you have to process it instantly. The beginning and the end don't rub your skin raw, dear Hamlet, it's all the stuff whizzing by and with you in the middle.

Before we know it the jaws of the end, or the gates, however you see it, is staring us in the face. Now what? Do we tip our hats and say, "thanks for that, onto the next" or do we sit for a second with the beast, in the garden we've just run through? Looking back on all that's grown? What is we become one of those people who never looks forward, too busy looking back? Or someone who never looks back, too busy looking where they're headed? Ends make you yearn for that beginning feeling, while beginnings make you hope for the end, because with ever exhale we require an inhale and vise versa.

Yes, no story is complete without a beginning, middle, and end. Missing any part takes away the satisfaction of the experiences, don't you think? But that doesn't tell us how to deal with them, it's just a little inkling of a promise. So, here's my proposition. We keep going and we keep sharing every experience. Sure keep some things a secret, little things, and yes, stop and smell the roses or watch a snail crawl for a moment, but don't stop the story by trying to rewind. The right starts and stops are going to find you, because that's just how things work.

And at the end, take that deep exhale you've been waiting for. Enjoy the healthy deflate of your lungs and get ready to take that next inhale with some gusto. Count, one, two, three, and look. There it is.