Do you ever get that zap down your spine? That jolt through your brain, the absolute moment of clarity?
In that moment, one is in such an alert and awakened state of mind. Free from emotional detritus, free from the anchors of doubt,free from the claws of confusion, anxiety.
It is within these moments and state of mind that the drive to action is incredible.
Today I ran past all the fish hooks of depression, past the tentacles of confusion and bolted for the door with my keys in hand. I didn't hear a single word, as the neighborhood blurred in slow motion. The Honda rumbled to life, my foot flattened the gas pedal and away I sped to anyplace but where I was.
It was the fresh air of freedom that cooled my face, raking through my hair.
This is what it was like, the sweet sweet embrace of liberty, freedom.
What now?
What do I do now, that I have these moments of clarity? Moments of sanity for Christ's sake.
The fork in the road is parted by a bright yellow line. To the left is a path, to the right is a path. There's even one path in the middle. Which way do I go? Well, since I have so much clarity , the obvious path is to my left. This road doesn't wind around a descending pit like the other two.
It actually has a smooth path that is well lit and the weather seems to agree with it also.
You would think at this point, this juncture that the road to freedom would be the easiest choice.
Let me bring you the paradox of the long term prisoner. This poor fellow has spent so many years behind bars that he calls it home. It has become very familiar and very comfortable, the routine has been memorized, the details of the cell have become home portraits. Being accustomed to conditions, even if its a prison is inevitable. It takes strong conviction to break free from the shackles of bondage.
One would think the acceptance of freedom would be universal. That it would be grasped with the strength of Hercules. Who would deny themselves the wings of freedom? Sadly, we are many, and there are many more of us yet to be. Just like Plato's cave, we are prisoners.
What is it that snaps the backbone of soldiers, iron workers, heroes, gardeners?
What is it that crumples that moment of clarity?
The element that commonly shrouds conviction is fear.
This fear is the water that smothers the fire of courage. Fear cuts the legs right from under the visionary.
It's this collapse from conviction and courage that steers the hopeful traveler unto the rails of chaos.
The other rail line travels to order and salvation, or so we think.
This last line to salvation is the door that we all see in front of us. Usually there's several doors that look just like it. Do we have to pick one door and pass through it? Can we not open one, stand there at the thresh hold and stare into the abyss? What about the next door? Open that too and look out into the horizon. What of the next? It doesn't do any good at all.
You can open and look all day through all the doors. Time is always running out, pressured into choosing we step through the door that "feels right". Hopefully that's the right one, but statistically it's usually a disaster. What of the moment of clarity that allows us to see?
Ah yes, that moment, that moment indeed. If it can be kept open long enough to survey the land and allow us to be precise. For some of us that open window last a few minutes, for others its ever present.
Remember the Matrix? It's the same deal, except this is real life and the consequences are severe.
Speaking of severity, amputation of limbs sounds alot easier and even preferable.
Here are the shadows of doubt clinging unto the mind like water reeds.
Memories of lost love, lost moments that resonate. Past emotions clutching unto the heart with unyielding grip. Detachment from the present, from the pain, this self created shadow room is also a prison.
Is there any light at the end of the tunnel? At all?
Where did that zap go? I don't feel the jolt anymore, the clouds are rolling in across the sky, the cold hands of doubt have wrapped its fingers around my neck.
-The Old Academy-
The fleeting moments of clarity faded as I parked at my destination.
It was an old coffee shop that I had instinctively driven to. Close to the freeway, and a few places to eat next door. What am I doing here?
Am I thirsty? Am I hungry? Am I lost? Am I crazy?
Old habits die hard, if at all. Starling Cafe , here you are darling, how have you been? A little older, so familiar, sorry to have not kept in touch all these years. Forgive me, and thank you for welcoming me home. You haven't changed one bit, the cream and sugar in the same spot next to the community chalkboard.
Settling into the corner chair with ease, the mind eases a bit and replays my life at a much slower pace, and with less sting. Fashionable notions aside, the red velvet lounge chair is as cliche as it is comfortable. No sense in dismissing the decor at this moment. Quite the opposite, everything here is a warm blanket, blocking the cold memories from freezing the flow of thoughts.
I step towards the bookcase, its like standing at the foot of a forest. So many books like the trees they were made from stand on their grounds, and proudly display their titles. Which one should I choose?
The large book? The one with a recognizable author? The peculiar one? The one with large pictures?
Which one......
Every moment in life is precious, or so it's been said. Then why do we waste most of it???
Why do we hate waiting in line? Why do we want this moment to never end? The two extremes of our existence is a matter of perspective, is it not?
When do we even pay attention? When the bottom falls out?
When it's happening to someone else, it's a parable. When it happens to you , it's the end of the world.
Can I say that it's when we are human? Or should I say it's biological. Because animals do feel a good range of what we feel.
I finally settle on a fictional fantasy novel. Fight Club.
Somewhere in this universe, Helen Keller is playing the smallest violin.
Is everything subjective???? Is everything ???? Subjective???? Subjective???
The girl behind the counter is very attractive, and the guy she's working with is cool as shit. Some things never change. Youth is the best prize of all. Simply the best.
The Muse
Desire to live, the desire to prosper , the desire to strive, forging ahead no matter the tragedy.
Can be inspired by a muse. How insane is that idea? Can it sustain me , provide fuel for this long trek through the wilderness.
Muse, who are you???
The muse smiles with bright radiance. Do I catch your attention??? Amazing this mesmerizing spell that is cast unto the room. The negative thoughts and emotions drain from the body and its replaced by warmth and song.
Where are you now curator??? What is it you're trying to accomplish again???
How can this one person clear the suffocating air, clear the hazy mind, like mornings first light.
Train of thought regained, I sit deep into the chair, like a walrus submerged underwater waiting for something to happen.
My mind slowed, digesting the past events. Every little air bubble that drifted to the surface, held thoughts and emotions. Every little pop in the air released tiny bits of catharsis. I sink deeper into the chair, submerged even further. It was seeping out in larger spurts from my mind, bleeding from cerebral arteries. Is this helping me? Or is this much to the effect of bloodletting?
Regardless of however it is affecting me, I can't stop it. Let it run its course, like the chaotic oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. It just seeps and seeps and seeps profusely, with no end in sight.
Socrates proclaimed the unexamined life isn't worth living. If there's a popular consensus that ones life is successful, should it be so scrutinized?
Or will the definition of success lead to ambiguous arguments of who should be re-examined???
What are we looking for under the microscope???
This is simply macabre, for some of us, performing this self autopsy is painful and brutal.
It's one thing to let it vent out in random thoughts and emotions. It's altogether different/infusing to methodically categorize all the seepage/spillout .
At some point, reviewing the wreckage like an NTSB analyst will be necessary. Store the feelings in boxes, move the pieces and label them accordingly to each container.
What have we here?
Poor decisions have poor results. Am I correct? Lets retrace the road to this current wreckage.
I chose the wrong partner. It was based upon literally a shot in the dark.
Now that I pointed the finger at the symptom, let's examine the three fingers that point towards the problem. You compromised your principles didn't you?
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