the horizon beckons
my daily alarm buzzes gently on my wrist. sometimes not so gently, depending on how restful my sleep was. i don’t care either way. it’s like a mosquito bite, sometimes barely discernible and at other times gets me up and cursing.
what wakes you up every morning?
you know it’s not really the alarm that does the trick. that’s just an excuse to convince yourself that the dread of failure or the lust for success is not the real reason.
play it safe
if you’re comfortable with playing with kid gloves on, you’ll just settle into the template society offers you. of course, family does the honors here but as an agent of the larger society of course. i’ve always scoffed at tradition and it’s values, whether religion inspired or state mandated.
all my energy and effort was expended in breaking those molds and creating my own, unsuccessfully at first. breaking was easy, building wasn’t.
but years after i was able to, i’ve amusingly rediscovered the value that tradition has to offer to the average player in the game. it’s ridiculously easy.
had i accepted the straight and narrow, the path well trodden, i’d have saved much energy. energy that would have propelled me farther along the path (chosen or not) with hardly any struggle, plenty of support in the form of players, seasoned and naive.
would have also gathered a dedicated following aka family to play with and play for instead of focusing my entire game on my self.
see the horizon?
there’s nothing about my life or how i’ve lived it that i regret. nada. not a thing. yet, i’m not averse to the realisation that my obsessing on myself, my eyes miss the magic of the horizon.
how much of the game is about the player and how much is about the players?
but if i have to focus on something besides the horizon, would that attention and affection not be better showered upon others than self?
i’ve never played for anyone but myself. maybe there were moments of affection where i’d lose to let another win, lift another up and push them forward and onward. but always more like a kind lovable uncle who’d play with and entertain the kids.
never the hapless parent who’d thrown his lot into creating and sustaining the brats till they reached a stage where they’d repeat the same cycle.
commitment towards a cause is the foundation of consistency, that eventually compounds into creation’s fractal growth.
procreation isn’t the simplest way but quite certainly the easiest way for an individual to contribute meaningfully towards growth of the universe.
so by obsessing more about myself and less about others, have i been a poor player? pssh! like i give a rat’s arse about being a good player. for all my life i’ve prided myself on being a bad player. oh yeah, that probably means i wanted to be a good player… lol!
stare thru the horizon
staring through the horizon (not at it), i forget myself, the others and find myself immersed in the infinite experience of the game.
what if the game is more important than either the player or the players?
from this perspective, neither path is important to walk on. not the straight and narrow. not the twisted and untrodden. the feet will follow where the eye doest lead.
instead of obsessing on the path, and the process i’m just gonna keep my eyes peeled towards the horizon and allow my feet to catch up whichever way they can. i will stumble, i will fall. i will bleed, and i will crawl. but even when i sprawl, my eyes will forever remain in thrall.
it’s a beautiful world only because i see it thus. not because the path is pretty or the people around. these eyes are meant for loving, loving every view they see. as i look towards the horizon, you’ll notice i’m not looking at it, but beyond.
what do you see, today?