There is an adage I discovered while working on a series of film and theatre productions. Only at the end, when things are wrapped does anyone really begin to know how to make that film or put on that play. If only you could go back, so many potholes could have been avoided. I know this speaks to experience and I realize it speaks to the vision of hindsight, but it never fails to catch you off guard when the production in question is your life.
If you'll forgive the metaphor, after thirteen seasons, my marriage is facing down cancellation. The show started out in the typical fashion with the main characters being clearly unwritten and only a cursory example of what was to come. The past several seasons, things really blossomed and got more interesting and varied, and for all intents and purposes, the show hit a real high mark. Last year, though, all the stops were pulled and things were clearly getting difficult in the writer room - main characters personalities started to change drastically, there was infidelity, illness, lies, and deception. It was clear the show might have reached its final note.
Yes, I know - me and my metaphors. If there's one thing that has been a consistent companion of mine on my journey, it is this manner of communicating in metaphors. Some times I think about my penchant for metaphors and the somewhat cagey and perhaps vague manner I write this blog and I wonder if I just can't think of life in concrete terms. Institutions have no standards and definition, emotions have no words or image, and the connections between people have no explanation.
