Sandstorms

woman

Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.

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Playing Destiny

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One late evening, he stood at the station in the middle of going toward her and away from her. Tired of being battered by destiny and being a pawn at its hands, he decided to play the game by its rules. He would let destiny choose for him, this time.
He would board the train that came in first from either side, he thought.
Standing alone in a crowd, lost in thought, he waited for his fate, which was fast approaching the station.

Photo credit: Harshad Sharma http://www.harshadsharma.com