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,