What stands out as eccentricity
or worse as my own perspective
gets lots for lack of practice. For
lack of interaction. As wisdom
sprouts from within like these
gnarly hairs that grow out of
my ears, or like the kinky
eyebrows that grow at
three times the rate of
the rest, and seem to
multiply exponentially
each year (first there
was one, then there
were three, then six. . .). . . .
I know exponential like I used
to know potential, which, if one
is not a late bloomer, say, once
that motor’s running, decreases
exponentially with each year it’s
utilized (utilize it well, my love, but
do not rush, you must never rush your
your potential, because that plateau will
be there, I swear it will, or it’ll be a goal
until you’re gonzo at least. But, oh
such joy in my heart as I tell you
this, but practical joy – once the
plateau is reached, where do
you go from there? Oh, there
is plenty of there there, do not
get me wrong, it’s just that the fun’s
in the incline, so steep that with every
step, no matter the weather or no matter
how thick the surrounding brush or how bloody
you’ve become from the brambles you’ve fought
each fine step to escape, at the end of the day, it’s
clear that you’ve progressed, you’ve risen up, you’re
higher than you’ve ever been before! So pace yourself.
Because no matter how slow you go, you’re still heading
up, and each and every night as you stretch yourself out
in the most comfortable position, upright as it almost always
is, and you rest your head upon a rock (another tidbit of
advice: it’s always better if it’s covered with moss on
one side or the other) – no matter how many steps
you’ve marched toward the inevitable top – you
have progressed, you can, with a splendid if not
slightly dizzy sense of satisfaction, know that
your altitude is at some point greater than
it was when you caught shut-eye the
night previous. So. Keep that focus
on the notion of the plateau, keep
that goal close to your heart like,
say, nirvana. But there’s no
need turning your venture
into a race. Take your
time. Enjoy your
surroundings,
what comes
at you, and
who you are
today as com
pared with who
you were yesterday.
Because once you make it
there, you’ve made it. Then
what? Slowly the sense of sat
isfaction from the progress that
you made every single day dissipates.
And there’s only one way to find that
feeling again, my love. And once
you’re that lost, you’ve not an
ounce of patience or perspect
ive left. And to the north,
or to the south, to the
east, or to the west,
in almost any dire
ction, at the edge
of nearly the en
tire circumfer
ence of that
plateau, you
will find that the
cliffs are sheer. And
while you’ll be ever so
tempted, and what with the
slosh of your brain and the sway
ing wattle you once called muscle
that’ll make up that body of yours
because you’ve been resting on your
laurels without a real goal at which you
might aim, nothing at all from which you
might orient yourself and find that motivation
that comes with certainly when one has a purpose,
one way or another, inevitably, you’re going to
go down. You’ll dream vaguely if you can’t
secure within you what I’m telling you right
now that you want down as a means to
get back up, but your recollection and
your sense about how to go about such
a thing will be indescribably vague, but
you need to trust me on this one. I
assure you that if you’ve lived without
a reason for existence for just a moment
too long your senses are going to bug out
and the last thing you’ll know is falling. So.
Listen very carefully, my dear, at this question,
which I ask that you keep near your heart through
the entirety of your journey, so that you may conjure
it up at any time, most specifically after you’ve reached
your destination and you’ve lost all sense of reason, of
motivation, of goal, of perspective: if you’ve spent
what seems an eternity gleefully climbing your way
up in this world, and then one day you find that
you have arrived at your destination, would it
not be mind-bendingly senseless to then
drop yourself, say, feet-first, off one of
those sheer cliffs, only to have just
enough time to realize as you soar
to your inevitable death, that
you’ve just gone about
erasing every single
effort, every single moment
you’ve given to getting there in
the first place? So don’t lose that spirit.
Nor the wisdom that will come at such a
great and satisfying cost.
Unless, my love, you
have a penchant
for the absurd.
Then, I suppose,
all bets are off.
But either way, my
suggestion to you is
that you do not let that
notion get lost. Keep what
I’ve said held tight. It seems
such a simple thing, but hold on
for dear life. Onward and upward,
my love. You’ve ahead of you a
lifetime journey of such risk, to
be sure, but with each passing
day you’ll know a bliss surp
assing anything you’d ever
felt until then, day in,
and day out. Breathe
in every ounce of it
as it grows within
you and as you
grow through
it. [They hug
goodbye, and
the young man
is up and then
forever away.]
