Mixed into a voluminous cloud of dust with my own fur flying I am disoriented. I shake my head….. looking sideways and backwards, can’t get my bearing, back away. At that point there is no choice. A voice whispers that if I don’t know what I’m doing I better get the hell out of dodge. Do or Die.
Shredded linen stuffed between my ears, confusion is hard to get a line on. Every time I grasp something ducks around a corner and encourages me to follow. Who was that? Restless, I am discontent to do anything but can’t do nothing. I keep shifting away from discomfort with no destination. Finally, I settle into a tall grassy patch and drift off to sleep. Radical gratitude wakes me to the realization that confusion was my ally. Throughout time, under attack and out of my league confusion forced me to go, keep going, keep moving until out of harms way. What I know is that for eons this was a situation in where danger was eminent and that I was at a distinct disadvantage. Get Out! Just go! Of course I don’t have to know where I’m going, the very fact that I don’t know drives me. If I knew I would know and would have the choice not to go. Confusion is self perpetuating, the more I need to know the more confusion I get until I surrender.
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13 years ago
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