Compared to the overall page length, I’m in the last few pages of writing the 6th draft of Blood & Soul. I left the launch pad like an Apollo rocket blazing into the blue. Most of the energy for going to the moon is used in the launch. In this last stage, I feel like I’m parachuting in from orbit for a splash-down in the ocean. I’m mentally exhausted. I need a rest when I finish this draft!
The most predictable people in the world are those desperate to be like no one else. They confuse separateness with originality. I was watching the hipsters gather at the coffee shop tonight. They were bringing their instruments and wearing vans, and t-shirts with ironic statements—I don’t think a one of them weighed over 180, thrift wear, tight pants, and tight jackets included sopping wet. One guy had a short hairstyle reminiscent of a sixties supermodel – you know… the silhouette of his head would look like a light bulb. Most of the hairstyles worn seemed to consider grooming too trendy.
I guess the whole idea of the hipster’s outfit and hair is to show solidarity with the homeless while paying $6.95 for a latte. It’s too mainstream to pay that much at Starbucks.
I’ve been haunting this downtown area for a while now. I’ve noticed a couple of retro looking SUV‘s. One has a Che Guevara bumper sticker; the other has a Darwin sticker—the one where the fish has legs. Wow, that is so avant-garde. Each of these hipster haulers has the assorted and very typical array of leftist bumper stickers—so original.
I pack up my laptop and I leave. As I walk out the door, I begin to connect the dots. There on the road are these two SUV’s with these skinny young men trying to haul pieces of their disassembled drum set into the coffee shop. I gazed at the stickers and gazed at the hipsters.
I’m getting older, which means I need to get over vanity and the insanity of impulses. I need to move from the blind side of sought and the wrong side of is to ought. I’m on a journey out of the naivete of youth into the youth of my old age. But wonder resides and spills from the cloven seasons of my heart, even as I laugh, life moves in for the kill.
What was the future is beyond my furrowed brow, but somehow, brightness shines in the valleys between far away thrills, bridging the distance of that old resistance in an instance, to other hidden fields. The wonders of pain and stain, of sunshine and gain are all in the palm of my gazing mind, reshaping, improving thoughts that were blind or unkind. With a thought quick as a glance, smooth as a changing stance, leaping on the tip of icebergs galore, foundations of floating depth explored.
I’m not what I pretended, less than I intended and far less than I apprehended. There is grander I cannot grasp, a pleasant and powerful undercurrent to life parallels its misery, sensed only with my meager knack to detect wonder, I stand astride two destinies still, one good, one nil.
I believe Truth is more ancient than light and rolls out through the ephemeral world like waves with such force I crouch to the deck on my squeaky little life ship. There is more air than I can ever breathe more sun than I can ever soak up or see.
Think of no other riches than those of the heart. Life takes its toll but strive for no other greatness than that of soul.