Had the realization that I am like one of those men pushing a shopping cart around town. The cart is filled with an assortment of rubbish and bags, cast offs and artifacts, the person propelling it is dressed in a rough and uncaring way. In his own mind he may believe he is travelling around town with his possessions loaded aboard a pick up truck. But in truth he is destitute, a vagabond pushing a cart of shambolic debris.

In many ways I resemble that shambolic man. I am fighting legal cases but have no real conception of what I am doing. My entire life is held together with the most slender of threads. I try and convince myself I have skills but these are nothing but a patchwork of cobbled together last minute innovations and leaps of faith.

What I do is true. My actions are not false. I credit my background in epistemology for that, for the retained ability to distinguish between fact and fiction, for the ability to derive a conclusive proof. But apart from the ability to arrive at a truth, I am pushing a very ragged assortment of baggage with little true understanding as to ultimate purpose or outcome.

I know that I drove into work, was rear-ended by a speeding vehicle and my world changed, that I was plunged into a new world in which there was no safety net, no insurance, no health care, nothing.

My struggles with the insurer have made one thing very evident. That I lack the skills required to successfully manage the organization I seek to create. That I did at one time have such skills. But I doubt very much that I retain them. My present experience is proof of that.
 

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Views of the Same Scene

Hill in July
Hill in October
Hill in January
Hill in March