Friday, December 5, 2014

The Freudian Road


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.”

-Jerry Wendt

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