The Freudian Road
I know it
was a mistake the moment it was over. I
can certainly see my horizon well enough,
and purpose is very apparent, but sometimes my bleakness begets unrest, and I
am torn with conflicting thoughts. My
day- to-day is often mundane . I walk
this earth and I consume. The sun rises
and sets, with a sameness clouding any real joy. Still, there is angst and hope and curiosity
all tugging on my psyche like children pulling at mother’s skirt for attention.
There has to be more. Relentlessly wearing down my resolve . . . no,
not resolve; more complacency- eroding me. The power to change waxes greater
and greater until it overwhelms caution. I am a driven creature and the
incidental diversion becomes a monument, obscuring my rational view. Obsession pervades. I am beguiled Yes, there is risk. There is always risk, but sometimes it must
be wagered against for any true change. And
that pervasive “sameness” is powerful in obfuscating any dangers. Confliction causes my hesitation. But a tide of boredom washes clean those
thoughts and I decide- not in any thoughtful or contemplative manner, but with
a sudden impulse to action. It’s funny how the actual happenstance can be so
serendipitous.
So
,resolute, and yet hesitant, I put one foot ahead of another and walk on the
asphalt, feeling the night’s coolness.
At least that feeling is different.
Perhaps the journey is the purpose?
I’m confused. Slowly at first and then with conviction I walk across the
road. I have arrived. I consider my new
“now.” I look to my new
perspective. Nothing has really
changed. Not better or worse. Oh, dear.
It has been all for naught. I should have been happy where I was at
Now my
“There” is “Here” and the sameness is apparent.
My action was totally unwarranted and I am relegated to walking and
eating and letting the same forces build within me all over again. I look at the old “Here” that is now “There”
across the road with a wistfulness.
Should I have remained? There has
been no gain in my venture. I become nostalgic. For what?
A rising sun slides me forward to another day, bringing
with it a gentle breeze. I can almost hear the whisper the wind
carries:
“Oh, go lay
an egg.”
