Well, the jam-making was a bit of a bust.

Not in the truest sense of a disaster. But if one was expecting jam, well…the good news is that the resultant concoction is a plummy/rhubarby-yogurt-topping taste treat.

Let’s just call it fruit sauce, shall we?

It started me thinking about expectations; that crazy perspective that things should be one way or another. This belief is, of course, in sharp contrast to how things truly are. I believe that the ‘should’ perspective is what gets me into all sorts of trouble.

Who says anything or anyone should be or do what we expect? Where is it written that Life shall unfold according to my expectations and wants? The horror! The magnitude of that kind of fulfillment might be a tad problematic for the rest of my immediate world.

What if we all simultaneously got what we wanted and thought we deserved? Let’s take a macro view for a moment; think about Israel. What if all the wishes and desires of every Palestinian and Israeli were manifest all at once? Poof!

There would be no one left in the country…

…except a handful of peaceniks on each side. You know those deluded people who wish for peace and happiness for all? Hmm…wait a minute. This isn’t supporting my theory very well.

Still, I beg my case. There is no should. Life is life. Life unfolds, mostly with no discernible pattern.

Recently, I heard someone mutter “so much for the golden years”.

They were talking about a crappy turn of events for someone nearing retirement age. But why on earth would we expect life to be golden at a certain age? Looking around at some of the aging people in my life, the evidence tells me that I’m going to need to cowgirl up if I want to ride this pony into that mythical golden sunset.

And most importantly, I have to be fully accepting that sometimes that pony will be making sauce when I wanted jam.

Wait! Is that a rather absurd metaphor? Mixed, blended and whipped into something strange? You bet it is.

Life is a little bit like jam, some random saucy bits and always there is that damned unruly pony whose mane is tangled in my clinging fingers. Well, I’m at it, I may as well throw in the proverbial rose garden or lack thereof.

There are no promises. No guarantees. No extended warranties.

Life is what it is. A glorious mess of random glories and devastating griefs.

But, my oh my, when the sun shines and the endorphins are firing and those roses, yes those aforementioned roses, have escaped the trampling hooves of that damned pony and when I’ve finished a great heart-pumping bike ride and have a grin like a dog with a frisbee, well, isn’t it great that I had nothing to do with it?

Well, I do have some modicum of control. I can support myself with healthy eating, daily exercise, connections with the people I love, creating something new with my writing, art or sauce-making and laughing at the absurdity of it all.

That’s my job. Kind of like watering a plant and making sure it gets enough nutrition and light.

It’s all about paying attention. Noticing when it IS good. Rolling in that moment like a dog in the grass, legs kicking up and a whole body wag that says, This is it!

Step right up! Welcome to the dog and pony show and this crazy game called Life.