failure is its own version of success. to perform below expectations is, of course, frustrating. but to not exercise will at all is the true demon. how can we call ourselves human without any engagement from our infamous, explorational tendencies?
i was brought to an open mic where no one showed up except the stellar individual who offered the invitation in the first place. while i exited that establishment without coffee or tea, my stomach was surprisingly full. the rich, solid expanse sitting in my gut was the prize of trying an out-of-the-box activity. the performing acts could have been gratifying as well, but i championed a cozy commission from the attendance itself.
when open spaces cramp inward and the worst personalities of fellow sidewalk-trekkers are wired into your brain, abandoning the insulated shelter of your home is more than a trip to the grocery store. it’s a tortuous walk of shame. who’s to blame for casting this jagged limestone? well, everyone. don’t you hear them? the muttered indecencies, glancing at a person to notice they were looking at you first, and the suppressed, smug smiles are littered about, resembling a posthumous riot.
i can’t accurately separate reality from enhanced, sensitive nerves firing against direct orders, but that shouldn’t invalidate the experience. to cite an extreme, probably too over the top to be relevant example, if a patient is haunted by schizophrenic, supernatural spirits that a doctor cannot perceive, that doesn’t negate their state of distress.
in our acute, reactive responses to horrid involvements, the dream and the newsworthy event both initiate almost identical reactions. can you convince your left brain that your worst traumas were nightmares and not world history? the pain which they cause you would no doubt minimize to a passing thought if you could pull off this marvelous trick of deception.
continuing on, however, i brag about a three-minute drive and a flung-open door because of the completed journey through my paranoia. an optimistic philosopher might peg this as a moment of strength to be mined for the next outing, and the next, and so on until the momentum carrying one social meeting to the next is on a constant conveyor, available 24/7 to ferry me into unknown settings. what a beautifully incorrect prediction.
the pessimist, who i’d rather contribute toward in support of my hopes avoiding kidney damage, would declare it an anomaly. when i total every conceived circumstance of a moment into a recipe, the list of ingredients is sparse and specific enough to fend off further attempts. like baking cookies when you’re not a baker, the compulsion to induce sticky hands is more infrequent than a full moon.
it’s that level of enemy i enter battle with on a daily basis. energy is usually, within a respectable time frame, bubbling with fresh electrolytes. but a dam is built on this spring, funded by the hermit in the comfort of an embassy outside of my domain. i’m less government regulator cracking down on the occasional operation and more underground agent rebelling against the tyrannical forces maintaining a constant chokehold on freedom.
it’s not just that i think that’s upside down — it is. the reversed polarity is troubling, but certainly has a side effect of hyping up opposite day, when i get to socialize without the ominous crawl of misread eyes.
even in prison there are luxuries.
– D K T