"If you've never stared off in the distance, then your life is a shame."

Thought is the labor of the intellect, reverie is its pleasure.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Consulting a Little Insanity for Advice

Run Track
Dave Brubeck – Take 5
Ready or not, here I come.

You can almost feel it. Coming off the wave of a laughing transience. A tinge of regret over a solid, cool blue optimism. Deep roots in an ocean all too familiar. A fluidity of inumerous waves merging, dissipating and slowly dribbling off into the collective. Only to have themselves emerge out the other side in a new and fantastic way.

Knock one away or keep one close, they all slide in and out of recognizable existence at one point or another. A cold undercurrent and a hot, sunkissed top wave bring warmth to each other. The blended perfection of ecological presence. The ebb and flow doesn’t know any better than they do but it all happens in a timely unity to create a beautiful chaos. An errant wind leaves the gentle brush strokes of some far away style gives each crescent that streak of individuality.

Cursing the tide without spite in hopes to touch the trees one might think a wave crazy. To think a wave anything but lucid makes madness of itself. The ocean has it’s ways and won’t be strayed, but waves missed the memo. They just do. What waves do. Can’t fault them for that.

So a few errant winds and a couple of wicked currents later some wave strays off to make a tsunami of life. No ill will or deviation intended. Just a natural cause and a natural reaction. Either because of one groove too late or one wrong flow and now that big bad wave, with such good intentions and such a crystal reflection, can’t find the ocean. Can’t find the shore neither. It might just be a tempting oasis teasing with a hallucination like a neon sign promising a profitable return on their investment. The gently whisked tender surface, punished and pushed oh so smoothly with delicate words, belies the once peaceful power of that crescent inner sanctum which bulges and twists at the winds mocking musings. Overexposed and running out of juice. Crash, leading to the inevitable return to the hustle and bustle of the dance known only from above, or, with no left, no right, no turn and definitely no tide, just keep moving up.

Trembling with every twitch and every push-pull tug-o-war that taps it’s toes, what’s a wave to do? What waves do. All that waves can really do. Find a tune and dance to it. Life gives you wind, be a kite. Maybe someday the ocean will look up at that abomination and laugh as loud as it laughs at it and itself. A wave of a smile is all it knows as it spins and dances its feet with the waves it has come to love. Maybe someday, those blissful, sparkling fluctuations of life and dreams that believe they know where they’re headed, they may look up. Maybe not. But that’s what makes the Big Mother cradling it all and holding it all together giggle and shake a little from time to time.

Because, when Truth, Death, Time, and Desire got nothing but lint in their pockets and the only ones left at the table are Faith and Destiny, it’s anyone’s game when Humanity’s sly hands are the ones greasing the deck. Humanity can be a slippery dealer when they think the cut makes a take, but those cardslingers they forget that this table has a nasty habit to skimp on the gratuity. And all too often forget that they can only hold the pot. They can’t touch it. Unless they put their own chips in front of them, take a seat, have a drink and learn the game.

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