I'm afraid I can't help it

Guns, guns, guns are the talk in America today. Some people love them; some people hate them. I am a lover -- in more ways than one. Moving right along, here is a photograph of a young man from the Wolf Clan firing a Springfield M1A last August. It is the civilian version of the M-14, which is among the rifles I was well acquainted with while in the Marine Corps. This is a semi-automatic, as opposed to the military version, which could be switched from semi-auto to full automatic. It fires 7.62 x 51 mm (.308 caliber) ammunition and has a twenty-round magazine. Before we dwell too long on weaponry, allow me to turn your attention to the music. There are so many wonderful songs during the hour of David Bowie music posted here that I am drawn into the lyrics and the melody of all of them. One, in particular, brings tears to my eyes whenever I hear it. But, in the interest of brevity, I will stop writing about the music now and mention only a few lines from just one song (not the tear-bringer) to engage your curiosity:

Yeah, I'm afraid of Americans
I'm afraid of the words
I'm afraid I can't help it
I'm afraid I can't
I'm afraid of Americans

No doubt, end & beginning are the same

I often think what I am writing here are words which travel not north or south, not east or west, but in a circle.

How many times, for instance, have I written that January is one the two months of the year which seem to be the cruelest to me personally? How many times have I written that I hibernate during January and February? How many times have I written that January 16 is the mid-point of FramWinter? How many times have I written that I joined the Marine Corps in January? How many times have I written that I began my "adventure" on the sea of blogs in January? How many times have I written that I will never spend another January alone, but always seem to do just that?

The numbers are not really excessive, but I have done this several times, hence, the perpetual, circular motion of my posts: Each year beginning and ending in the same place, with the same words.

Soon, I will be five years older than I was when I first came to the blogs and wrote my first post -- which I did on a blog that no longer exists, incidentally. It ceased to be in a matter of two or three weeks, and overlapped with this blog for a week or so.

Back on topic: Many things can happen in five years. A person, obviously, can experience many changes -- emotionally, mentally and physically -- over a span of five years.

Five years can be a span. It can be like a bridge, crossing from one point of land to another. Or, in this instance, it can be like a bridge of personal evolution, crossing from one persona to another. In a sentence (more words), I do not think I am the same person I was five years ago. Same face, sure; same memories, yes; same history, of course; but, a river, a chasm, a stage of life has been crossed.

I suppose this could be interpreted in the context of another circle of my words: The "incarnation" from one life (or lifestyle) to the next. For those unfamiliar with my use of the term, I designate my Marine Corps years as one "incarnation" of my life; my journalism days form another; my experiment (not to be confused with experience) as a teacher makes up another; my work in corrections is another; and so forth. The same man, yes -- but, a very different man, as well, who sees the world in a different manner and, at times, lives his life as a different person. This is my definition of an "incarnation."

But, no. This time I mean change even beyond that. I mean real change, as in moving from one stage of life to another. Some of you -- those who actually do read my words here and have the vision to see beyond the surface of some of the posts -- might understand what I am saying. As for the rest of you, you are free to interpret this circle of words any way you choose. In the meanwhile, the beginning approaches the end .... or is that, the end approaches the beginning?