Horizontal Vision

    That arc that refutes the promise that if you travel long enough and far enough, you’ll come to a place where you can look over the edge. And see what? No one will dare say as the last one who tried has never been heard from since.

    The idea is intriguing. Edges are always enthralling, as are beginnings and sometimes endings, hardly ever bottomless pits where the addictions that haunt us live.

    I remember once being chased by a God who said he wanted to show me something, but wouldn’t say what. I was told once upon a time to not listen to strangers, as they may harbor assumptions about your ability to fly, if need be. It is befuddling what we tend to remember trying to forget.

    Assumptions don’t bother me nearly as much as not being able to fly. I was asked to look at the horizon and determine if there was a future to behold. I assumed there would be, should be, but then if the arc is just a simple illusion with an edge meant to entice us into confessing, I no longer wish to play that silly game. I prefer games of conquest, like Monopoly, or war.

    Some things are too important to ignore, or worse make fun of, because you don’t understand them. There are books written on the subject I assume, although I’ve never needed to read one as I believe in everything, but the eve before Christmas Eve as it seems somehow redundant.

   Father Christmas told me once that horizons are meant to be metaphors for metaphors. More redundancy, but without an arc. I believe I learned in Physics class, the hard way, that what will not bend must break. They never go into the relevance of observations, so you never really know who to believe.

     People, complete strangers, are asking me what’s on my horizon. I am never sure what they mean. I assume they are assuming we all assume we have horizons. That target in the distance we shoot our destined arrow at and hope for the best, although a metaphorical illusion of our personal horizon, it does actually exist, or why all the prayers.

    I know we must all find our own way. I know they mean our own horizon. I can’t help but wonder because of all the contemporary hurdles life affords us, if they aren’t attempting to lessen the disappointment by referring to our distant target, as a heaven.

    Heaven, that place just over the edge, that emblematic place deemed to be our next time around, by those who believe once around is not nearly enough. I never know how to respond, as believing sometimes requires belief, and the thought of having to have more than one horizon is a lot to comprehend on a Sunday afternoon in February.

     I wasn’t going to say anything, as sometimes speaking destroys opportunity, and opportunity may only come that one time, but what the hell. I believe Spring could be my horizon. I know cabin fever is, and late-night Korean novellas. Sometimes all-night diners like White Castle are open twenty-four hours, even when you know it may not wise to eat there.

    Can there be an end to a horizon? You would think so, but then somethings like eternity and vastness have an indescribable depth according to the Webster dictionary. 

There are two things in life that should always be when changing horizons: the Bible and Webster’s dictionary, and Murphy.

    Murph is my paperboy when he can remember to be. He claims that is why God put him on this earth. We got to conceptualizing about horizons. He thought I was talking about an old Plymouth he had once. I had to explain it had nothing to do with Chrysler. I don’t think he believed me.

    Murph has a different horizon than I do. He won’t describe his. He’s afraid I, or someone like me will steal it, and then he’ll have nothing. I see his point, although I don’t agree. Taking someone else’s horizon would be akin to borrowing someone’s soul so you could attempt to outwit a God of your choice.

    Murph said he tried it once and it worked, but only until the sun went down. He said if continue doing something and getting the same result , it ain’t worth the effort. He’s very pragmatic for a paperboy.

    He did get me to thinking about collecting horizons though, even if they are only good during daylight hours. You can learn a lot from things that disappear, unless your memory goes along for the ride. Then as Murph says, it ain’t worth the effort.

     There are I believe many types of visions, many types of horizons, but horizontal visions are rare because we have been trained to think vertically. Everything is either up or down, winning, losing, success, failure; all going to the moon or to hell.

    “Visons determined to encompass the rise or fall of greatness limit themselves, as the ground and sky limit the possibility of expansion, whereas vertical visions are free to follow our earthly horizon until we end where we began, thus accepting the inclusionary aspects of global contributions,” according to Murphy.

    New horizons are the impetus for creativity, and creativity the implementation of knowledge. Knowledge being the foundation of freedom, allows the expansion of horizons and therefore the diversified acceptance and promotion of truth.

    Murphy’s horizon is created by a vision he possesses for, and of himself. I can attempt to expand Murphy’s horizon and he mine, but the vision of what that horizon appears like, is entirely up to us.

    Our horizons have a tendency to expand or contract, as our visions change. Without knowledge and truth visions remain unborn, and horizons unclear. We are left then with only the rim to look over and question the possibilities that lie in the vastness we fear to consider. 

    “Some visions have no horizon, some horizons no vision. When we limit our vision, we limit our horizons by fearing to visit the possibilities they offer. By closing our minds to knowledge, no matter our beliefs, we limit our vision to the vertical and our horizon to the ground below and the sky above,” according to Murphy.