Circumstance is a muthafuya with dreams, who struggles with the difficulty of executing them on account of the barricades of a reality that deadens them. Such is the nature of your fight/plight. There is great pain in becoming. . .
These are the last words I recall upon waking. It was the voice again, trailing off into the distance of the subconscious realm.
I do not remember the details of last night's dream, save for the above. What I do know is that I arose feeling like a lab rat in a maze. I wondered what course life would ultimately take me on; wondered what it's all for. What would the outcome be?
Am I truly in control...or out of it?
I thought about all the hindrances I'd ever experienced, the deaths of loved ones who would've been a strong support system, and how it seemed as if the harder I fought, the more losses & blockages there were.
I reflected on how I've been traveling this long winding road (sun in tow) mate-less, at times car-less & penniless...at one point, a step away from homelessness...and how life has always seemed to continuously strip me bare of material entrapments at the very moment that I had finally gained/re-gained even the smallest semblance of "things" after reoccurring seasons of loss.
What is the point of it all? I can't help wondering now. I'd like to get a least a fraction of a fraction of a glimpse into the grand scheme that I am but a minuscule player in. I don't think it's unreasonable to ask that of the powers that be.
The voice's statement seems to imply the undergoing of some form of preparation in my case. But preparation for what?
I can attest to the pains of constant change first-hand. Growth, it seems, involves a series of deaths/re-births or destructive/re-constructive motions. A butterfly must die as a caterpillar before it is reborn as a butterfly. I must remind myself of that from time to time. For if it can do that, then surely I can submit to my own processing. Heck, since resistance is futile, it's as if I must anyway.
But the million dollar questions that plague me on days like today are.... What is it all for? What is the sum of this divine equation? And what exactly am I becoming?
I have been wondering lately if the answer to that last question is: not at all what I (or anyone else) thought I'd be... And the uncertainty and twinge of doubt therein is a formidable thing to bout with.
Wonder if the first caterpillar was privy to the end of its story when it instinctively wrapped itself inside a cocoon for metamorphosis and came out as something else.
What were its thoughts while in the chrysalis stage? Were they similar to my own, now that I'm in hermit mode? What secrets did it tell the others about its experience?
Did it ever question Mother Nature or undergo the process with a mis-perception of what it was to be because no one told it otherwise? Did it go willingly? Or was it just forced to change?
Some have said in the past, that I should stop thinking so much about it all and just go with the flow. Have faith and tread blindly, they mean. How many of them actually follow that advice when they find themselves faced with unknowns and fork-in-road moments though? Ebb/flow is a cliche' in conscious circles that is hard to embody. So, it is human nature to wonder. Or perhaps, just mine. For, I always have.
Always questioned. Always dug much deeper than I should. Always held my tongue or safeguarded that side of myself from people who would never understand the extent of my pondering. Always gone to great lengths to tone it down in order to achieve some sense of normalcy. Always looked into a person's eyes and saw far more than what they projected outwardly. Always looked into the midnight sky and wondered if there were beings on other planets staring at their own midnight skies wondering the same things as me.
I was created curious. I can remember being so since as far back as my oldest memory of myself. It all has to be for a reason. Maybe the caterpillar knows.
Confound that voice.
- kj
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