Limping



The Pact by deZane (http://www.dezane.com/)

Right. Now then. What was I going to say before I was so rudely interrupted by entities? Oh yes. The Journey. The Pact.

Where are we going? Well.... I have a rough idea of the final destination (Okay, let’s be honest here, I’ve been given my coordinates in no uncertain terms and in a very bossy voice) but I’ve set the cosmic SatNav to ‘interesting route’ rather than ‘most direct’. Let’s take that eh? Let’s see what happens and where we go along the way.

What I can tell you is this. There will be music. There will be art. There will be storytelling. There will be magic.

There will be joy and surprises. There may well be sadness and disappointment. Journeys, and life, rarely go exactly the way we plan, the way we desire.

We are gathering together a fine band of...what? Pilgrims? Way too dour. Let's say travelling troubadours, maybe. Some will fall by the wayside of course. Some already have and that is beyond sad. But, hey, we face choices every moment in life: yes? No? Whatever. Ego gets in the way of soul, so many times. I, I, I. Me, me, me.

I (yeah, I know!) was going to talk about other stuff today but me twisted me ankle last night. I know, I know (except of course I don't, really) – it sounds mad but I do feel there are messages in everything so I pay attention to this stuff. Ankles, apparently, are about mobility and direction. The affirmation to counter  this affliction is, apparently, ‘I move forward easily in life'. Ease? That would be good. Why does everything have to be so damn hard?  Maybe because we learn through the tough parts?  The swamplands of the soul.

Anyhow. So many ideas flying through my head right now. So much I want to show you; so much I want to ask you all. But, for now, I’m limping. So hey, today I was going to invite you to come plunging willingly down rabbit holes, landing with a bump in the gutter and bouncing up to the stars. Instead, how’s about you join me and the SP, as we go (slowly, carefully) on our morning walk?

Up into the woods...green on green with pinpoints of campion and bluebells and wild garlic.  Bracken unfurling, giving up secrets. May bursting out crazy like it couldn't give a toss.  No music in my ears for once, just birdsong - guttural croak of pheasant; pure poignancy of blackbird.  More honest sounds maybe.

We stop at my thinking spot, so high now, and look down at the river far below.  You can barely hear the babble/Babel from here.  I scribble furiously in my notebook.  Breathe. Scribble. Breathe.

Going uphill is alright but coming down is hard, so hard.  The SP watches me; he looks worried, my little dog angel.  'S'okay,' I tell him. 'I'll take it easy. Sometimes you have to take it one step at a time.'  Place each foot carefully; pick the path cautiously. 

 And we get down just fine.  And we walk through town, where everyone smiles and says 'hello' and yet I don't feel at home (but that's another post).  And come in and make coffee and a CD pokes its nose out, without a cover, begging to be played. Dido - Life for Rent.  Well, well.  I haven't listened to this for years.  So I do. 

 

And then I start thinking more about this limping thing.  And remember the wondrous Dr House (Hugh Laurie), the arch limper.  And so, let's leave this post with the good physician.

 

Dr. House: Nothing matters. We're all just cockroaches, wildebeests dying on the river bank. Nothing we do has any lasting meaning.

Evan Greer: And you think I'm miserable?
Dr. House: If you're unhappy on the plane, jump out of it.
Evan Greer: I want to, but I can't.
Dr. House: That's the problem with metaphors. They need interpretation. Jumping out of the plane is stupid.
Evan Greer: But what if I'm not in a plane? What if I'm just in a place I don't want to be?
Dr. House: That's the other problem with metaphors. Yes, what if you're actually in an ice cream truck, and outside are candy and flowers and virgins? You're on a plane! We're all on planes. Life is dangerous and complicated, and it's a long way down.

Ain't it just?  :)