Without A Bucket List On The Road To Nowhere

January 10, 2018 No comments exist

There is an abundance of people wanting desperately to be accepted. Putting themselves ‘out there’ to be heard, recognized, blurbed. Billions of them. Most are part of the mainstream, or the new stream that they think isn’t mainstream, but is the same thing. If you’ve gotten attached now to a positive jive, something you think is hip, perhaps a ‘yoga’ bit, or a piece of enchanted soul-talk-romantic, I’d beg you to question what it is you are now ‘into’.

Some follow others to a tee. They love what they type, whether straight, sober, wrong, or right. It looks like it’s fad and phat to be over-extended, drunken, pretended, vice-ridden, in order to be sadly or laughingly forgiven. Anything is accepted in order to belong anywhere. Is it cool to be casual? Life isn’t as serious as it can be made out to be. But casualness, without wisdom, is the disguise of apathy.  There’s a laziness that tears at the heart, while few realize its collateral damage. Branching out, we diminish.

Whatever is drawing you into the greater drama of life is a vice. Even if it smiles nice. Talks pretty. Seems too cool not to rule. Or is triple churchy. It’s a crippling stick to not do the deed of self exploration, with unique observation into life’s peculiarities, irregularities. Those begin right here. Wherever you currently are. You are not part of a gang, or a clique, or a team who are on a road together to somewhere good…somewhere bad…somewhere, other than here. You are not even on a road. And you have nothing, no belongings, no buckets, and no ‘list’ for you to achieve to get somewhere. Just here.

It’s your personal likes and dislikes that are throwing a wrench into your works. You think you are this or that, illuminating your personality, as if it is something of importance. You might say, ‘this is who I am’, or ‘I used to be like this, but now I’m like this’. But that is a bunch of bunk that best said, is stuck in your head, and should be rightly and aptly dismissed. If you ever get around to it, you will find at the center of your circling a very fine point that is difficult to hit and even more slick to focus on. It is so near here that it’s hard to be there. In it. When you see yourself in that place, all the other stuff of identity is lost in space, and importance. What once was, is silly. Deservedly, so. Sometimes this place of grace comes and goes, but it is always there. It’s just ourselves that go to maya hell, thinking we’re something we’re not, in that made-up version of ourselves to find ‘purpose’. It’s a mind trick. A wicked witch who plays you for a fool then lives out your life, instead of you.

This tiny truth of you that expands into the entire Universe of everyone and everything that’s going on, and always has and will, is not reachable on weed, brew, or superfood. It’s not for the taking by the mistaken. Nope. It’s hidden from view by stews. And even the wittiest misconception skews its direction. It’s magic, see. Available to everyone. But chosen by the very few who want to step outside of the potionary world to see where the golden goose has truly laid her egg. And of those few who choose to follow that ‘road’, only a very very very tiny few will find that, in the world, they had nothing to do and nothing to find and nowhere to go to see this Beauty.

‘Personality is a small dog trying to get the soul to play. I hear you call, and I am out walking the road without legs or feet.’ ~ Rumi

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