As I sail off into the evening aboard a boat that offers very little in comfort or sophistication, I once again recite the morning muttered words that have become a mantra to me...
"YOU can do this".
A self-imposed and self-administered pep talk with which I relocate that place that once again attempts to scale up from the depths of my stomach and summit somewhere in my mind, a peak from which it can look down upon my optimism. This part of the world to which I am now living in offers space and natural beauty and beautiful condos and opportunity galore.
My bank account offers $000.81. Opportunity shall have to wait another day, it would seem.
"YOU were born to do this..."
I take pride and comfort in knowing that I have rid myself of the vices I once imbibed in, especially in a time such as this, and that it is indeed good fortune for me to no longer feel the need to practice them. However, I am not without fault, for there is still one vice I maintain with a junkie's fervor and depending on the circumstance, it can be the most dangerous of them all to dabble with.
And that vice is faith. Faith in one's own dream. I am unable to afford such a habit...having a dream to chase after is quite a costly affair, after all. Being unable to afford relationships, be they familial, platonic or romantic. Having a few pints with the lads at the pub or making love to a woman for an entire lazy weekend afternoon, having a cigarette with a coffee and a newspaper...all unattainable, all unappealing and all distracting.
"YOU'RE going to do this..."
It's back. THAT place. It appears that I am revisiting the tremulous place again where the fears and worries lurk about, thrashing about in a fevered and hungry frenzy, waiting to pounce and devour any and or all hope I hold on to as solace. Determination and resolve take their daily beating at this time of night, as the doubts and what-ifs butt into the queue just ahead of the pleasant thoughts and hopeful dreams, so they can be first to traipse into my subconscious.
"YOU can do this..."
Sacrifice is a mere pittance. It isn't what you give up that's costly, it's what you find yourself all of a sudden being able to place a value on that taxes you the most. Appraising the company of a friend, devaluing intimacy with a lover, determining the worth of a person...equations that can be figured out on the fly without the aid of a portfolio manager or investment advisor.
I am subsisting on borrowed time, time which isn't so much dwindling away as it is being taken back by those that proffered their arms, their homes, their larders and in some cases, their wallets, in gestures of goodwill and generosity. However, dreams rarely meet deadlines, follow itineraries or planned agendas and they most certainly do not obey the protocol of benevolence.
"you've GOT to do this..."
Every night I submit my confidence to a self-induced and rather thorough thrashing and every morning I stretch painfully and stiffly to rise up once again to receive criticism and praise, support and disdain, reassurance and scoffs. And then I leave the bedroom while muttering once again to myself and myself alone.
But first coffee and the daily horoscope...
It's a bitter brew that no amount of sugar will tame and the stars guidance for the day states "You may be cautious by nature but the planets are urging you to take the kind of risks that make things happen. Have faith in your own abilities and act as if there is a higher power guiding your actions. Never doubt that you are on the right path."
"YOU'VE had worse", I think as I raise the cup and wince down another sip, proving for yet another day, that although there may be an awful taste left behind, I can still stomach whatever may and will be coming my way.
"you HAVE to do this..."
When asked why he was running across Canada, Terry Fox replied "I'm not a dreamer but I believe in miracles. I have to."
From time to time, don't we all?
"YOU can do this".
A self-imposed and self-administered pep talk with which I relocate that place that once again attempts to scale up from the depths of my stomach and summit somewhere in my mind, a peak from which it can look down upon my optimism. This part of the world to which I am now living in offers space and natural beauty and beautiful condos and opportunity galore.
My bank account offers $000.81. Opportunity shall have to wait another day, it would seem.
"YOU were born to do this..."
I take pride and comfort in knowing that I have rid myself of the vices I once imbibed in, especially in a time such as this, and that it is indeed good fortune for me to no longer feel the need to practice them. However, I am not without fault, for there is still one vice I maintain with a junkie's fervor and depending on the circumstance, it can be the most dangerous of them all to dabble with.
And that vice is faith. Faith in one's own dream. I am unable to afford such a habit...having a dream to chase after is quite a costly affair, after all. Being unable to afford relationships, be they familial, platonic or romantic. Having a few pints with the lads at the pub or making love to a woman for an entire lazy weekend afternoon, having a cigarette with a coffee and a newspaper...all unattainable, all unappealing and all distracting.
"YOU'RE going to do this..."
It's back. THAT place. It appears that I am revisiting the tremulous place again where the fears and worries lurk about, thrashing about in a fevered and hungry frenzy, waiting to pounce and devour any and or all hope I hold on to as solace. Determination and resolve take their daily beating at this time of night, as the doubts and what-ifs butt into the queue just ahead of the pleasant thoughts and hopeful dreams, so they can be first to traipse into my subconscious.
"YOU can do this..."
Sacrifice is a mere pittance. It isn't what you give up that's costly, it's what you find yourself all of a sudden being able to place a value on that taxes you the most. Appraising the company of a friend, devaluing intimacy with a lover, determining the worth of a person...equations that can be figured out on the fly without the aid of a portfolio manager or investment advisor.
I am subsisting on borrowed time, time which isn't so much dwindling away as it is being taken back by those that proffered their arms, their homes, their larders and in some cases, their wallets, in gestures of goodwill and generosity. However, dreams rarely meet deadlines, follow itineraries or planned agendas and they most certainly do not obey the protocol of benevolence.
"you've GOT to do this..."
Every night I submit my confidence to a self-induced and rather thorough thrashing and every morning I stretch painfully and stiffly to rise up once again to receive criticism and praise, support and disdain, reassurance and scoffs. And then I leave the bedroom while muttering once again to myself and myself alone.
But first coffee and the daily horoscope...
It's a bitter brew that no amount of sugar will tame and the stars guidance for the day states "You may be cautious by nature but the planets are urging you to take the kind of risks that make things happen. Have faith in your own abilities and act as if there is a higher power guiding your actions. Never doubt that you are on the right path."
"YOU'VE had worse", I think as I raise the cup and wince down another sip, proving for yet another day, that although there may be an awful taste left behind, I can still stomach whatever may and will be coming my way.
"you HAVE to do this..."
When asked why he was running across Canada, Terry Fox replied "I'm not a dreamer but I believe in miracles. I have to."
From time to time, don't we all?
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