“Do your best or die trying!” – MAPT [Memorable Anonymous Postal Teacher]
I, personally, tend to strife for perfection, because in the back of my mind, I know it is impossible to achieve. Near perfection, yes. Total perfection? Nope. Two of my favorite animals, cheetahs and dolphins, showed me why my earlier way of thinking had to be wrong, at least misplaced or based on ill-informed semi- or non-secular, factoids. None of the animals I saw were identical. Let me repeat this one more time: none of them were identical. They looked alike and were easily spotted and classified as the species they belonged to, but not one of them looked exactly like a replica of the next one. I also have this unfounded, but very real, fear of sharks. Even they are recognizable as individuals within their section of the animal ‘kingdom.’ They bite, but not for fun, I have to grant them that, with or without fear. Therefore I have to conclude that performance anxiety is nothing more than a heavily inflated mutation of fear, its relative survival or a combination of both. In order to succeed, one has to be alive first. This notion relieves a lot of pressure from the day to day business of moving along and hopefully forward. Even when we sleep we move forward, 1000 miles per hour on this rock and an additional 100,000 miles per hour piggybacking on what some might describe as the ‘hindsight’ of our solar system. We humans have so much more to learn, because leveling off competition and survival of the fittest in the same league, is like confusing a tree for a forest.
A new day peeks through the unruly clouds, as the darkness shuffles aside to let light shine upon us. Darkness is there to make us rest, although some find this dimness rather scary. If, in the total chaos of the universe, we think we have detected rules, are we supposed to abide by them? If we are invited to think outside of the box, how much room do we have before we run into the next box containing our solar system, imagination and lives? How much room do we have to really wiggle?
How come we get all ecstatic about aging wine, but when it’s about ourselves we seek solace in the nearest cosmetic surgery spa to yank wrinkles and crowfeet back behind our hairlines? Looking young and being young are two detrimental, but opposite forces orbiting around different gravitational forces on either side of our cosmos. This semi-dressed ape is proud to have lasted this long and enjoys every single day of being able to look up and around and say, “Golly…”
That is what I thought when I grew up. It is not something I was taught. It was a genuine feeling, buried deep inside my conscience. It must have been stored there for a reason, and a reason, at that, I don’t know Jack-Shit about. Sometimes trying to figure out why what is what invites one’s mind to wander into furlong territory and raises the question, ‘How will we be able to know the unknown?’ I wonder ’bout that a lot.
The BBC TV will show you all the beauty of nature. US reality TV will teach you how to make money out of everything. You walk into the woods and see trees, your equivalent mountain of meat will see a heap of 4x4s. You go out there and see beavers maintain their dams, your morbidly obese counterpart sees fur coats on legs. As always, it’s all in the eye of the beholder. Rage onward, mankind. Create your own breach and find the enemy within. The one who keeps stabbing you in the back. I think it’s nickname is ‘ignorance.’ That’s why I prefer to remain naive and innocent. A bit hard with all this blood on my hands, but hell yeah, let’s go for it.