Saturday, March 26, 2005

Good Old Foggy Haze

I do not mean to be mired in past images and memories, but I am writing about living during a period of time when I was walking around in a complete daze of impactful thoughts. They would tattoo me out of nowhere back then, and as opposed to now where I know their meaning, back then they were all so overwhelming. Those days become real again, and I write words that place me in that skin again. I listen as words vibrate through my mind like a conversation I always knew was coming.

I am wont to be grabbed by a mischievious smile, a slight look that lasts longer than the average second, and the thought of what a life together could be like. But, I also know what a rough road feels like underfoot, and have tasted the bite of bad choices made versus better decisions to make. As hard as it can be and it may possibly get, it was once as hard as I have ever known...and that I survived with my head held high. No one will ever take that away from me, and you may be surprised to know that is not my inspiration. It is my will to survive that pushes me, the telling of a story that subsides within me, and the search for my soul that holds me.

It is in between the mad scratches of black onto white and the telling of my days, that I come across other times and other insights. A song can reach in and select its choice of dancing partners, and in the background the camera whirls silently on. This would be one of those times. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

I walked to school last year, a light fall rain falling over me, and to my right lay the Bedford Basin. Guitar strings played in my ears, and my eyes captured water joining with water, lightly skipping over the surface, and becoming one as it is meant to be. Ahead of me lay my future haunt for the next four years of my life, and I was to soon continue the writing of my book. My first draft lay finished less than three or four months earlier, and I was nescient to the fact that the second one was to soon be transcribed.

But, on that day, all that mattered to me was the sprinkle of life across my face. Images of days spent in front of assorted harbours, in awe of the ocean and its seemingly depthless power, and this time was no different. I was waging control over my decisions, and making them in favour of self as opposed to destruction of self. I smiled because I knew that decision was leading me in the right direction.

And I smiled a little harder as that realization settled in.

I knew then, as I know now, that it is all up to us. It is all up to us to decide how our lives turn out, but we must heed messages over signs, and see that our life is expanding as our roads are broadening. Our choices come to us as we make them, and what we make from them is left in our hands. To this day, I have always enjoyed the ride even when I could barely cover the price of admission. Hedge your bets but always cover your ass.

One foot in front of the other, another one forward, and another step closer. Every song must have an end, as every journey must have a destination, and every blue sky must give away to the starlit heavens. I licked the salt on my lips, and wondered what was next. If I had known then what I know now...would there still be a chance of carrying on? Of course, for we all know time waits for no man. I would not have changed a thing and will feel the same in the end.

Amazing what thoughts can come from a walk in the rain on the East Coast of Canada, on a day in the life of me. I am unable to let troublesome days bring an end to me, and I refuse to let them defeat me, even as I question the ambiguity. I only know to hold my head high, throw my shoulders straight, and just keep walking. As many times I may write it, I see myself doing it. Do not let the atrocities of this world effect your outlook on the best gift you could ever ask for. Your right here and now present of life. Until we meet again, people, until we meet again.

"Hark now hear the sailors cry, smell the sea, and feel the sky. Let your soul and sprirt fly into the mystic. When that fog horn blows you know I will be coming home. Yeah, when that fog horn whistle blows I want to hear it I don't have to fear it." - Van Morrison


1 comment:

Creative Director said...

Life in itself is a strange and sometimes frightening rollercoaster ride...but when the ride comes to the end, I guarantee I will be the first in line to ask,"Please sir? May I have some more?" As always, Tammy, thank you for taking the time to read my writings.