Fate...do you believe in fate?

      Sometimes I do, particularly when I put myself out to write something meaningful and for various electronic reasons....it disappears. It's never a few words, or even lines that go missing, it's always a full page of thought that I am pleased with. If I believed fully in fate, I would believe it was because I should not have written about that topic. Or because I was saying something that would do more harm than good. But, that again, is giving myself credit of being something special...and isn't that what fate would have to be saying to stop me like that? Yes, it's a dichotomy, a cleft stick of is it right or wrong to think that way.

       Yes, I have lost another piece of work...about religion this time. You know, when the rationale of a theosophical problem, or even a sociological one, is flowing well and making sense why do I keep losing them? Am I just a clutz? Perhaps in too much of a hurry, or merely as I half supposed, fate slapping me down. Especially in this last instance when I was trying to make sense of beliefs, religious practices and how it effects family...this time in the case of the death of my Mother. Perhaps I should not be touching on what made her tick, perhaps it should be slanted more towards what my problems are. Why I feel the need to explain what happened with her. Mmmmm , could be that, perhaps it's not mine to write about.

        I do know how to use a laptop, or in this case an iPad. I do know how to save my work and do it by rote to avoid just this sort of problem. Yet again, it's what I considered a good piece of work building...going up the Swanny. Or, if you prefer...floating down the river, as in 'The Swanny River.' Each time it happens, it's as if someone has snatched a precious jewel away from me. How precious is that behaviour is that. Perhaps all writers are the same. A piece of work is your baby, to be protected and toiled over until it's safe to be allowed to go free. Or, perhaps I have the wrong idea about children too. See, once you begin to think in terms of fate, ideas can become very sticky. 

        How else do you know that you are on the right track? Unless the concept you began with, starts to flow, to gell, to come together and make sense to you. You think you are making practical sense out of esoteric, or emotional concepts. You are working through ideas, seeing how they fit together with ideas or concepts held by society in general. With the people you know, or are talking about in particular. You take a topic, examine the ideas, the rules around it. You turn it inside out, back to front, then put it back together in a way you think makes sense to you, and perhaps your readers. Your aim, is to explain the inexplicable.

        Well, my work was flowing, it was coming together simply and cleverly.... I went off to see about more information....came back...and there it was gone. Missing in action. As if it never was!

         How annoying and frustrating is that....

         Well, I'm not allowing fate to rule me, I am not sinking out of sight because of possible censure, I am fighting back, writing anew. Beginning again. Perhaps it will go as well again. Perhaps I will do better.

          Here's hoping my friends and readers.

          In the meantime, please accept this small missive of frustration.