The Pictures We Paint

It is 11:30 up here on Brokeback Mountain and I haven’t decided what to do about a couple of situations.

Might be because of The Help You Cannot Get or the second day of going through a peculiar feeling where I know I am not quite right and intentionally gutting out a moment.

Because for the briefest of moments I wonder if it’s an anxiety attack and decide I want to embrace it and roll around within so I can try and determine what is.. going on.

The thought being that if I understand what is happening this can be handled which makes me question if it is anxiety because I am not panicking.

Or if I am, I am most certainly not out of control.

So I take the most recent offer and read it again, mulling over and considering actions knowing I made a decision long ago as to what I was and am going to do.

Might as well compare it to Brokeback because I am going to power through this and figure it out on the fly.

It can be done and can be understood even if the parties and players lose sight of logic and reason because these are the pictures with with which we paint.

A Night Off

It was with great reluctance that I took the night off from the gym, not because my body wouldn’t let me go but because I knew I couldn’t go hard enough.

Knew that if gave myself an evening to try and recover I would be happier than if I half-assed my way through it.

Maybe that is why I hit that moment of time in the bubble of weird and why I felt an unfamiliar sensation.

A sense that I wasn’t quite right but wasn’t clear as to what lay behind it.

Lay down in the dark, headphones on and eyes closed exploring the darker corners and probing the shadows for signs of intruders.

When I rose up the pain in my forearms and chest were still pronounced but I recognized that pain as remnants from the workout.

Battle ropes and Dumbbell flies left their mark upon me but they weren’t what I was searching for.

Reached out in my head for the old man and silently told him about the change to come and thought about how a year from now I will know so much more about the new journey.

Considered whether the hand will remain empty or clasped wondered if old Johnny walks the line while chasing ghost riders through the sky.

Will You Fly?

The soon to be 19 year-old and I are engaged in a conversation in a Potbelly in Plano.

I tell him there is a scene in Man Of Steel that I enjoy watching for the symbolism and the music.

“The question isn’t can you fly but will you? Will you jump off of the cliff and build your wings on the way down or will you stay grounded.

You don’t have to be Icarus. You can learn from the mistakes of others and take faith in your own ability to adapt, adopt, adjust and overcome.”

He nods his head and I wonder if he recognizes this is something I have done more than once and continue to do.

Not to be shared as a point of bravado but to be seen as an example and role model. Proof that if I can, he can too.

Time will tell, not just for him but for me too.

I have my thoughts, ideas and suspicions.

If I am as intuitive about this and other items as I believe it is going to be a hell of a journey and a great adventure.

Can’t do more than walk the path and see the sights as they come along. There is joy in the journey or so I have been told.

Time to see it play out, one card at a time.

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