there is no omniscient voice calling to me, or any posted instructions, yet some i know what i must do: one of these gadgets is the power giving source, that which will bring to life this machine i have found myself in and start me down the path awaiting me.
i give a quick sweep of the area, looking for the button which resembles the stereotypical start button you see in all the movies: large, circular, red... but i don't see it, at least it doesn't jump out at me the way it is suppose to.
the choices are insurmountable, if i even attempted to test each option i'd waste away in this cheerless throne. i realize that it is more than reasonable to make a few poor choices, but too many and i could cause irreparable damage, and with that, i'd never make it anywhere beyond the repair shop.
peering out the expansive windshield i notice some of my peers starting-up and taking-off. they've deciphered their machine and are now free to proceed beyond this baron wasteland.
i radio out to my fellow captains, but it seems that each machine is distinct to their pilot, and only advice and encouragement is shared (which, in such a position as this, is found to be quite overrated)
and so here i remain, still dumbfounded by that which surrounds me. once in a while another departure outside my window catches my eye, and with each of these, my spirits diminish a little bit more.
off they go to the bigger, and better. here i sit with the innumerable options staring down at me.
~sleepless and adrift at the wheel~
7 comments:
don't worry you aren't alone...some vehicles break down...and others return to the repair shop...where some fun can be had before starting the machine again...i'll always be there for you
Oh, I say, a metaphor.
Well I think it's better just to not touch any of the bloody buttons at all. You know, half those that make it off the ground will run out of fuel and crash flaming to the earth soon thereafter. Perhaps it's fortunate to be grounded.
Let others try at the stars. To dare their iron fire is often to be destroyed beyond all redress.
But perhaps the field isn't so barren. And all that is needed is right there at hand, paradise or hell only by the mind's command, the buttons only being misguiding distractions.
So leave off the buttons, if you're wise. That's what I'd do. In my experience they're only ever ruinous. At least, the last one I touched took off and, all unlooked for, took a plunge earthward. Took half the bloody ship with it.
That's what you get for playing at buttons. Is it worth it? If I'm wise, I'll take even a barren field before one of those again.
but how will you know, if you never try. in order to achieve something--to reach that sought-after star--you need to take risks and make sacrifices.
will you be happy with barren land forever, only able to speculate about what else could be out there. seems rather dull to me... scary as hell- but dull
Because there's some wisdom in my heart, taught by years of long consideration. And, as I said, I tried once. The truest and best effort one could have given, all burned to ash. And my speculation is most often keener than most people's experience. The assumption you are making is that it is better to attain the stars. I am asking... what if it is better to hold the barren field?
Yes, in a worthy endeavour, risks must be taken, if they are deemed reasonable. Yet this is the very thing I question: that the end is itself a worthy endeavour. From all that I have ever seen, it is not. The stars look beautiful, but are cold, colder than the darkest night on the barren field. Truely, good to watch and marvel from afar, but folly to try and attain.
For truth, I do not this field barren. I do not see it dull. I see here more beauty than all the stars arrayed together could match! It is a land of cultivated fields, meadows and streams... which I myself have planted. Whilst others seek their stars, I make a paradise of what God has given. Why would I want some starry company? Why seek for blessings out there, when all that is good is here at hand?
Speculate about what's out there? Ha. I did, once. But surely, now that my eyes have studied the heavens, given them due consideration... there is no beauty there.
Will I be happy? Yes. It is better than the alternative, which is to find sure ruin in an endeavour which is guarenteed to not be worthwhile.
My admonition... be joyful in yourself. Need nothing else. God and life and yourself will suffice.
Of course, that's speaking with a forked tongue. Surely, there's a part of me foreswearing as I speak. But since I am rational, the better part has supremacy. And that remains all for holding. And such is my advice to you.
Do remember that if you are not conentent in that barren field you will never be happy amongst the wastes of the stars. In truth, it is only once you have cultivated that barreness that you can truly and rightly make use of that machine. All else is fool's work.
Just to add, it might also be said that there may be no button at all that works. Or the only button that works is stuck and won't budge. Heh. Oh, yes, that does happen. Bloody buttons, eh? Always such stubborn buggers.
Apologies if my nature appears far too cynical in this matter, yet I think it is justified and, moreover, is simply the facts of the matter, in despite of what some starry eyed dreamers may assume. Sometimes, you see, it is far the better counsel to give up a pursuit of no gain, and work to the benefit of what God has given at hand.
You must ask yourself, really and truly, if that endeavour is really what your imagination makes it out to be.
For myself, I'll never be seen to be flailing at the buttons in useless hope. One button I tried, one only: I waited, carefully, perceiving and judging, and by my widsom I knew it right. But for all that it was right, it failed.
See, for all that people profess the glory of finding the right button to press... I do not see it. I do not see the worth or the beauty. So I stand the enemy of the endeavour, and am the prophet of remaining.
Do not desire more than God has given, for that is coveting yes, even to desire a state of being that is not yours but belongs to others! Do not assume by nature that you must have this thing.
so one attempt led you to crash and burn, i get it, i've been there, it hurts like hell. But rather than cause you to give up, take it as a lesson for next time...
Now you know which button not to use, to stay as far away from as possible, to completely disregard in all future endeavours (except, that is, as a lesson)
if you truly believe that there is nothing great waiting for you somewhere in the future, then sit and stay where you are... maybe you'll be lucky and it'll come to you instead.
Oh, yes, I've that advice before. But it is not the pain, the potency of which is very long past, that drives this thought, but observation and judgement. Well, let me ask you this, what if the lessons taught by such a thing are that women are by nature incapable of feeling true love? If all their love is only a thought lent transient passion, and beyond those feelings, there is nothing deeper? Then is not the lesson for the next to say 'forswear'? What if the lesson taught me is that I would need a ‘button’ which doesn’t exist?
It is, indeed, very like women to say to move on, and it is that very mood which has betrayed me... how can I then be a party to it? That shifting and transience may be easy for a woman's heart, which seems content to hold little of love's commitment by nature, but only lasts so long as the feelings hold their pitch. No, my spirit is stronger than that, and I can hold by the rightness of a button, even were it destroyed me. After all, if it of all did, then all the others are worse.
I can look beyond my momentary feelings, and lessons taught me are not merely lessons of the heart. I will not be caught running here and there testing this and that. And I do not think any other should, either. This testing is ignorance of one’s self and, moreover, triviality to the pursuit of love, halt of commitment. When I give my heart, I give it truly and forever.
And say rather, if I am cursed, it will come to where I am. Again, you are assuming that it is a greater good to have such a thing. But I mustn't worry, as it never has, it will never, nor will I let it. My own life is secure from those Furies, I think. There is no fortune to be found in a woman’s heart, only grief. Huic misero fatum dura puella fuit.
Apologies to rant on your blog, but you must see that it is not only women that can rave the inconstancy of men, but that women are far from blameless in love’s pursuit. If anything, they are fortunate, for their hearts set on passions, they will invariably rise again. A true man’s broken heart is not so easy to mend... he has given far too much of himself. Not just his feelings, but his mind and spirit alongside. How much more a poet’s, like mine! That is no little thing to break, you know.
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