Musing

You used to always tell me that I smelled like the outside
Like the world out there, so cluttered and uncertain
Not like the world inside...
Where things can be ordered, expected.
You liked to tell me you liked the outdoors
But I think you liked the idea more than the reality
Because the reality was untidy
Messy
Unpredictable.
This was the worst part... the unpredictability.
You couldn't plan or forsee everything that was to come
Whether it was a mouse
Or a mosquito looking for blood
Or simply a crackle in the bushes
And you couldn't step outside yourself long enough to know
That in this uncertainty is life
Is experience
Is that which is worth living for
And that which is memorable.

When do we even remember the plans for something we did?

The memories are in the doing
This is also where the learning lies.

A plan is helpful, and often necessary.
We all need maps and directions from time to time.
But it's driving that is life.
The action.

You've been waiting for a chance to take life by the throat
To wrangle it by the scruff of the neck
Confidently
With strength.
But it's been beside you all along
Holding your hand
Waiting for you to lead
Now you realize that you need to walk and move forward
In some semblance of your own direction
But you continue to turn... round... in circles.

But why not? Sure. It makes sense.
Circles are just so tidy.

And if you never go anywhere, can you really get lost?
I guess only if you were lost to begin with.

T