Freedom to Think

CURSING

FATE

Everything matters, the days of kidding myself are over.

 

I want to know who I may become –

 

Am I letting myself be someone I don’t want to be?

 

Because if I am then I am not being who I wish.

 

Don’t spend heavyweight time with lightweight people, weigh before you pay.

 

I am weary, my calves are tight with the fire of the path, stones attack my feet with every step. I hunch my shoulders against the coming of night’s darkness and think about the latest bunch of ‘pos-vibes’ I have spooned into my brain.

 

Of course my root programming knows this does not work.

 

I can debate with myself rationally all day and all night as I walk the path, as I spy things just beyond the lengthening shadows, with awe and fear mixed.

 

I can tell myself that ‘all I need to do is’.

 

And more, I can understand that this is truly all that I do need to do. But to do it I would need to be in charge

 

I’m not

 

He is

 

That whining snivelling lizard

 

How many times now has Douglas saved my life?

 

Only last night he saved me from the eagle snake, that fire breathing raping snarky dragon that came for me in nights darkest hour

 

Well didn’t it?

 

Didn’t he?

 

Or did I dream that?

 

I shiver at an internal glance of recollection. My feet ache and I try to shift where the weight lands as I take another step. I look up, but cannot see far ahead.

 

Odd that, I used to be able to spy the path for miles; these days whether fog or night or some other magic, or mayhap just my eyes no longer so sharp, nonetheless I cannot see very far at all

 

The universe is complex, so damned complicated. All I do is walk and study, step step step, learn learn learn

 

The universe is hard, and complicated. I am soft and simple

 

Yet this is what I have

 

I’ve tried ignoring – that didn’t work

 

I tried avoiding – that didn’t work either

 

I tried challenging – mmm that didn’t go well

 

And now I listen to the echoes of the wise

 

Shit-bollocks, a stone sharply bites my left foot, always the damned left foot, my left, my child brain ... bla bla. I bend and grab at the shoe, kind of half hopping and shaking the recalcitrant bitch out onto the road, still walking, half hopping. I see those that have stopped, lying in decay to the left and the right, atop one another in their droves, whining their betrayal, seemingly not hearing that they each betray themselves.

 

I feel a deep gnawing fear in the deepest places within, that is the existential terror, and that keeps me striding forward; though the night grows darker, and the feet grow ever more sore, and the back is weighed by the monkey riding on it, and by my very own lizard (demon) Douglas …

 

Who did save my life, but asks me now to carry him long, so long, upon this road.

 

I walk on and hum the rhyme of The Scorpion and The Toad

 

 

 

Journeys of Jackman ..The wanderings, musings, learning and thoughts from one man     who woke up

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