so many choices

I'm reminded of the story of the man who gets caught in a flood and turns away rescue repeatedly, saying "God will save me".

In the last few hours I've had choices. There are things I want; finding them is proving difficult. Or so I thought. And then I noticed that doors are opening - just a crack, a glimpse now and then. So often I react by wanting more - more certainty, more information - and less - less risk, less exposure. The result? I miss out on the dangerous chances - the half-opened doors. What makes that happen that way? Is it fear; and if so, is it the fear that Marianne Williamson wrote of so clearly and vividly?

Who knows? I just know the level of frustration rises when the half-chance slips away.

Part of me wants more certainty; part wants to have choices stay open so that I can wander in and out. But would I want to be with someone who acted like that?

Simon