Consequences

Consequences teach me which things are worthwhile and which ones are not, but there is a problem.

Most consequences are cumulative; unlike purely bad things, I don't drop a bomb and see the world explode before my eyes. 

Consequences are more like ocean tides.  They creep up dampening the sand, bringing in a few little treasures, like pearly shells and bits of shiny glass.  Then they creep in a little bit more and here come the little monsters, a stranded octopus, or dried up squid, a tube worm or some other creature that makes me shiver.  And yet, the shivering is surrounded by curiosity.

I find myself thinking about where these things come from, what it is like to live in a murky muffled world unlike the one I inhabit.  Novelty draws me in and mutes caution.

At some point the consequences pop up like jack in the boxes and I have gained thirty pounds, or my allergies have out grown my breathing capacity, or the car can no longer run without a real mechanic looking at it, because consequences are real.  Ignoring them is like pretending the yellow light means go faster.

Eventually reality wins.  Sooner or later I reap the consequences of my actions, good or bad, and life moves on from there.