From Whence I Came To Where I Must Belong
“We’ve been through some things together, With trunks of memories Still to come, We found things to do In stormy weather Long may you run.”
Excerpt from “Long May You Run” –Neil Young
“Still, when I think of the road we’re traveling on, I wonder what went wrong, I can’t help it, I wonder what went wrong”
Excerpt from “American Tune” –Paul Simon
I do not know for certain from whence I came. Where it is I must belong or the route I must embark on to get there is but a blurry vision to me. It is not for certain that reality or my shadow shall be at my side as I cautiously move in a calculated manner about my way. As to the question will my path be illuminated in my travel this too I do not know. That which is known that I am in possession of the belief &/or knowledge that I am in existence. I exist!
This must be the end I cry out loud to nobody in particular.
Roads paved with gravel with treacherous twists, turns, curves, and steep hills halt me in my tracks as my travels to rediscover from whence I came as well as how I came into who I am now are brought to a screeching halt. This must be the end I cry out loud to nobody in particular. In the forest that is my life trees instantaneously are uprooted from their base crashing onto the surface below yet despite the explosiveness all lays still and quietly fragile.
Fragments of pieces of the puzzle when put together properly in perfect unanimity do not make me whole or feeling as one with myself or with the somebody that knows me for who I am supposed to be, what my purpose in being serves or a clear unobstructed thought process that can construct for me an unobjectionable concise conclusion as to how I got this far or where it is I even came from.
“If you don’t know where you’re going any road will take you there.” –Any Road by George Harrison
Often my cultural crosshairs become snarled or entangled within each other or outside of each other from unsteady lunges forward proceeded by sudden halts in forwarding progress. Unattached, unaffiliated, disconnected, disjointed, dysfunctional and disgusted from being where I don’t belong or belonging to a place I am not being. In the middle of it all is the trips on the iron horse to the land where hypnotism by way of blasts of color and clarity of motion that are on every side of me dulling my senses while setting my imagination afloat. The turboprops beckon me to come closer to them for ultimate mind control. Yes, I have been here before only to leave, return, leave and return again but this time with deep-seated roots that can no longer be dislodged or disengaged.
Geographical origins sandwiched in by a day filled with hours of horrors followed by years of social activism the seeds of which were planted many years prior. Pictures in the papers of this person (me) who spearheaded the indoctrination of our children by way of their schools to join their community. Come sweep the streets with us so the pristine image of suburbia remains untarnished. An office that scorned my potential political longings belittled my ability to coach my son’s Little League Team. “SLIDE” I could yell or impart instructions to run on contact. A holiday party I threw for special needs children in a place I knew they would smile using funds I was given control over sent me packing as the committee was suddenly smitten with amnesia when this event was being planned. How was this configured?
Swinging back and fro theme-wise that leads me astray from where I had originally planned to tilt my brand of written verbosity as my tendency to do so is fueled by my personal pendulum that feeds steady rhythms to my pounding ever-changing unstable heartbeat that metoprolol was saddled with the task of controlling even though it was my mind racing blood through its arteries that induced this cardiac chaos.
From whence I came was a mere mirage of where I was at that space in time. Of where I must belong it must be or could be whereas my illogical rationality appears above or maybe the land of the sunlit/moonlit ocean where the water thrice tickled my toes while seaweed gift wraps itself around my barefoot so each toe may bond with the other will pull me in with an unseen but felt undercurrent. The rolling ocean waves pushed me back and onto the shore where I am inexplicably streaming water from my body whereas only moments ago no water did I see or feel. No, there was nothing at all.
Six decades plus two years set aside towards the next decade should there be one my life has lived me. A word means nothing unless it has meaning to it.
It was not meant for me today to be at the mouth of the building stocked with gasoline propelled vehicles as it exploded. The missed bus had me miss being in front of an exploding burning building with blinding black smoke pouring out that would have nested in my lungs. This almost ended destiny my name was not encrypted upon or thought of for such.
My place of belonging is a place I may have been to, almost been to, perhaps never to be to. My regrets bear no signs of disappointment from this. Thinly disguised as disappointments are regrets buried deep into the crevices of my mind. Not really in knowing I cannot categorically state from whence it was I came.
As you see or feel me now in your space of being what is it that you believe I am or was? Where can you take me holding my trembling hand in your steady hand armed with your self-developed conclusion of me? Talk to me about what it is I should know (if perchance I do not already know) moving forward in longitude or latitude. Help me merge into one that place I was originated from, liberated from, to that place and only that one place where I shall continue to be no matter who I will be by then if only to be an obtuse angle triangular in shape.
“How does it feel? Aw, how does it feel? To be on your own. Like a complete unknown. Like a rolling stone?”
Excerpt from “Like A Rolling Stone” –Bob Dylan
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