Learning to walk.

Waking up.

Choices. Decisions. Options. Action.

A Decision made is a decision lived.

”Things are pretty messed up” Jay thought. As he sat on the ground, near a majestic tree, leaning on the trunk, feeling like a blob. Fog filled his head, permeating into his vision, clogging his ears, reducing his breathing to short, pitchy breathes, a smell of rotten and rotted aura filled the air, leaving a very bad taste in his mouth.

He wearily lifted his head up, scanned the area in front of him, looked left, looked right, and thought, “What happened?” Feeling as though a Mack truck had just hit him—as if he was severely gut punched—he felt a rush of nausea. He blinked and squinted quickly. The maligned thought passed through him along with the nagging, nauseous feeling. The underlying dread continued to plague his mind. Finally his head dropped down and he whimpered, “I can’t take it anymore”. Shaking his head back and forth as if pleading with his mind to stop the madness. Where DID the madness, “come from”? He shook his head as if to shake the madness out of it.

The struggle had just begun, yet it was never ending.

As he sat leaned up against the tree, Jay knew this feeling all too well. The feeling of “going along” when it was not right. Reasons aka/excuses began to fill his head. Like a good dog, he began to shake. Like shaking fleas off his skin and cost, he tried to shake them from his mind. NO, NO, NO, Shake, Shake, Shake. There is right. There is wrong.

Pretending is for amateurs.

Jay had a flash of momentary brightness. Flickers of common sensical beliefs of right and wrong, good and bad, yes and no, black and white. As he looked out in front of him, there was only fog. No clarity. Overwhelming feelings of choices made, decisions offered, choices made, decisions offered. “Oh”, the madness he lamented. Increasingly, the frantic pulses of “Did I” “Can I,” “Should I” clogged up access of any chance of clarity within his senses and thoughts.

Days gone by, opportunities to start anew, set matters right. Attempts at “fixing it”, Straightening the crooked path. All for naught. Constant steam rolling over Jay. Why am I so insignificant, he dwelled? Am I. Not a “Prize”, a “Catch” Feeling the dilapidated vehicle the Mack truck hit, he hung his head again. Superficiality? “Good looks”. “Looks Good”. To “get” to the real prize. The trophy. The glory. The bucks. The mansion. The Audi.

“When will people get over themselves”? Jay thought.

For a flicker of a moment, clarity hit Jay like a lightening bolt. “We all come into this world, the same way we go out: “Bald, and no teeth.” (Naked, too☺️).

Superficiality. “Good Looks”, “Looks Good”.

Leads weak men astray, and wise men array.

Knocked out. Cut. Knocked socks off. At last, the cumulative results of the Mack truck sucker punch was: He was numb. Living a numb life of acceptance. Of what was happening around him. Too much to take in he fretted. The opposite of laziness, yet it is the laziness that is the result of the overdrive. With the accompanying inability to adequately fight back. The opposite of laziness. The surrender of all surrenders. Quitting.

Learning acutely, yet insidiously slowly. The one who honestly had his back was himself. Him. Self.

Sad. But. True.

Jay swung his head around in a half-circle of anger, almost looking drunk. “Am I not “good” enough? He continued circling in his mind, “When the teams were being “picked”, did I “piss somebody off” because I did not play it “their way”? Not “hot” enough? Not this or that enough?” So. Cut. Bounce. Bye, Bye……

Jay had a momentary flash of brightness as if to say: “Good”.

But. Too soon after, another severe, intense wave of nausea hit.

Another momentary rush of nausea overwhelmed Jay. He was near to another episode, when he reached deep down, as far as possible in his core, his recess and said. “No”. “No more”.

Decisions made are decisions lived.

Jay shifted himself on the ground. Still dazed and dizzy from the fog. Nausea a bit less. But still present. He circled in his mind. His head circled around the thought. The problem is, there is nothing to “gain” from casual acts. Empty. Non-commital. Disingenuous. What’s the point?

Casual acts are skin to pretending.

Just as “Good looks” are to “Looks Good”. Pointless. Sadly, though superficiality exists. Jay blindly, frantically reached around for something to connect with, some kind of a connector. While searching, he felt a nauseating sensation tingle throughout his whole being.

Jay sternly, albiet stubbornly thought. No. I will not become addicted. “I will not succumb” to an inanimate object. A robot. No. No thank you. He felt this dauntingness in the atmosphere, everywhere. As he carried the phone screen to his face, he began to fret. Beings and images etched and sketched, brought into bed, into the house, bring down the house, raise the roof, on the couch, to/on the chair. The madness began and continued.

He re-grouped himself. And. Him. Self.

No thank you. I will stand this one out. He stood up. Slowly. Still leaning against the majestic tree.

No matter, no regard. Superficiality. No depth of character. Like being thrown into the deep end of the pool. No. No. No. Shake. Shake. Shake.

Alone.

No thank you. He tilted his head back. It gently hit the tree trunk. He steadied his legs. And as if on cue. His phone slipped out of his hand. He took a deep, somewhat relaxing breath. Closed his eyes. And took in the moment. Of freedom.

Of not being tethered. To the yuck. To the yuck disguised as “beauty”. The gestures of hair flips, and face caresses, head tilts, and flirtatious smiles. Nope. Superficiality at the expense of the tired, weary, and superficial. As a way to “connect” or “ hook up.” Or maybe not. Whatever. No matter. Wake up. The so-called-remedy was within Jay’s grasp. But. Then again. It was not. His head began to pound again. His legs shook. He began to tremble. A whole body tremble.

Jay knew he needed to go somewhere. Anywhere but this place. This moment. In time. Although he graciously appreciated the tree, the trunk, the strength, the wisdom of its years. He knew he could not stay in the current situation. Just because,

”It is what it is”. No. No thank you.

He shook to regain his momentum, his thoughts for a moment. “Do I even have the reserve, the strength, the stamina to walk away from this tree that is currently, superficially, “housing me”.

Yes. Yes. I do. The alternative is/has been to devour and devalue me. There really is no other Choice. Option. Decision. Action. Maybe that was the plan all along.He stumbled a bit during this thought. But. regained his composure and strength.

A little voice in Jay’s head whispered, “Don’t go there”. Jay knew exactly what to do. He knew. Deep within his un-nauseated gut. Action. A Man of Action. He carelessly picked up the phone, put it in his back pocket. There if he needs it. There if he does not. His choice. Or maybe not. Temptations and temptators would like to think they know. But.

No worries. Because of his core, his gut, Jay knew. Instinctively. He knew what to rely on. Himself. Him. self. And simply began.

Walking.

In the right direction. In the better direction. Where to go? Where to start. As he began the “baby” steps, he had a rush of doubt. But. Clumsily regained his footing. Gently shook his head. Steadied himself. Him. Self. And thought. Whichever direction that is the opposite of this moment will be the right direction.

It is what it is.