Now for my first Dashboard confession I am going to start off with this. Not an experience but how as the one behind the wheel I see the people that come and go in the cabin of my car. Each one different, dealing with their own moment and I get a snapshot into their life, tainted by whatever moment they are involved in or dealing with.
Do not disparage sweet mortal creature, the soft embrace of night will come as a cloak to engulf you. The dreaded specter of horrors and macabre isn’t near as frightening as the prospect of living in this day and age. It is not a case of if the Reaper comes, but when and how. Yes there are so many questions and so few answers. The vale is not an end but the beginning of a new adventure, a place of new hopes, dreams and exploration.
Alas the gift of immortality was not granted to the flesh of humanity. Eternity belongs to the gods whom watch and select the next cattle that is pleasing to them. Frail fleshy creatures, obsessed with life but not with living, to extend the numbers of days but not truly experiencing the gift as it is meant to be. Ants racing around as if members of a stirred mound, climbing over one another to reach that moments destination only to repeat it once again the next rotation of the earth. Plugging into the machine, being a cog in a vast engine that would still run perfectly fine without the infinitesimal offering. The worshipers that come in hopes of receiving some reward for the effort put forth.
Predator and prey wrapped in the same soft flesh, predators looking for the thrill of their prey falling under their prowess. The cycle a revolving door and there is no top or end of it all. A sea of tossed waves. One moment hunter, the next hunted, the hunter now hunted by the ones wishing to keep the status quo. The vast sea of sheep in the fold so tempting for the wolf, salivating as one has wandered into harm’s way. I bleating and then silence as the wolf licks its chops savoring that last tender bite. Self-appointed keepers of the flock, predators themselves hunting the wolf who will not conform to what is said to be the normal behaviors of the flock. Oppression of the flock’s expectation of each member quell the individual from striving to become more.
This quelling, is it the catalyst that causes one to fall astray so to speak? Is it the fuel that sets the soul ablaze to engage in various behaviors that seem deviant to others? I dare say this is far from the truth. The reality is much more exciting and frightening to some. In the hidden vault of the mind the pool of chemicals combine as the electrons fire. Neurons, receptors more chemicals, experiences cause waves of hormones that ebb and flow like a cerebral tidal pool. Perception is so key to life, how one sees events, feels the moment unfolding. A glowing smile or a gloomy frown all but the difference of a few facial muscles both happening a moment apart as an event triggers the facial change. It is for the one that encounters the wearer of the face to determine if that is meant for them or is the result of some other event. A chess game for some, a challenge for others an enigma for many. Again, the action expected when facing a smile, a scowl, the embrace of a friend or the awkward bumping into some stranger, each has a socially expected response. Even in the last moments of life as the flesh gasps for that last breath, there is a seeming expectation.
Act amiss from the status normal and watch as the sheep scatter, veer too far and see the gasp in horror. The truth is only in the public eye do they wear this façade, for the heart and mind cage their own would be deviant ideals. Captive to the form they die a little each day trying to keep an accepted appearance else they be cast aside for one that seems more normal to fit into that slot that has come available. Oh but the deep cravings of their carnal flesh do call, beckoning them to indulge in the sweet delights. The cookie in the jar calling, the apple with its tempting flesh just begging to be taken and bitten into. The self-loathing that comes as hidden desires plague the mind of the one trying to walk the line. Oh but for the one that tastes the sweetness it is nirvana for the delights are endless.
Linger on in the land of sheep and wolves, endure the realm and reality. One day the cloak will come and wrap softly or tightly bind plucking its fruit from this realm. Either way stop being afraid, look to the adventures and desires that are manifest in the depths of the mind, and live little sheep, live.