hodgepodge: the American variant of hotchpotch (definition: a confused mixture).
Not your usual mixture of things but a confused mixture of things! A scattering about of a mixture. Confused and scattered ::: as in my lovely life. A confused scattered hodgepodge!
Sadly ’tis true, hodgepodge is one of those words that fits my life to a tee. My life has been a confused mixture of scattered ebbs and flows, stagnant and turbulent waters, heavenly and devilish events that make up the whole. But, truth be told, isn’t everyone’s life the same?
But for the grace of God, there go I? Walk a mile in their shoes? If only? What if? Why me?
These are questions we all say to ourselves from time to time.
I could not help but to notice the word hotchpotch appears right before the word “hot cross bun, which is a bun marked with a cross, traditionally eaten on Good Friday, in my Compact Oxford English Dictionary which lives a useful life beside its companion Oxford Compact Thesaurus on my writing desk. Um, a nice hot cross bun to offset hodgepodge-ity. I like that.
Also, I noted for objective argument that the bottom left column of page 530 of the Compact Oxford English Dictionary appears the word hogwash (informal for nonsense) which pretty much sums up what is written here up to this point of my story. Hogwash!
It is hogwash because, if we are honest with ourselves, we make our earthly existence what we want it to be. We actually never let things happen that we don’t want to happen and we allow things to happen that we do want to happen. To a large degree we are in control of our lives. So why is it that so many people say they didn’t anticipate the outcome? And why is it that so many people don’t appreciate the life they have made? I’m not a scholar on human behavior nor am I a scholar of the Bible but it seems to me that we choose what we seed in our lives and willingly take an active part in how it grows. I am happy to say: Mostly over the course of my life I have enjoyed the fruits of my labor and I have immensely appreciated my life’s journey. Even the darkest hours brought some sort of knowledge or back-bone building to my earthly experience. If I’d had only good times, well, then I would not be so wise about my future. And, wise I feel I am.
I have a new sense of purpose. A wonderfully planned future. Perhaps with some minor hodgepodge scattering but not so much the confusion, any longer. I’m settled on my path and I am trudging forward in enlightenment, or so it seems to me, based upon sixty plus years of a hodgepodge’d life. The life that has taught me so much and for the first time without any reservations, I know exactly what I want, what makes me happy and how to give another happiness, as well. Dark days ahead? Surely some will creep in but I’m too old to worry about dark days, now, I plan, you see to live to be one-hundred-two and to die tending my garden! How could there be dark days in a garden filled with flowering beauty?
Tending my garden in the Spring. At one-hundred-two. Planting the three sisters and rows of turnip greens and dancing in the same breeze that causes the daisies to sway. Life is but a golden thread spun between us and all the things we love.