Sometimes it’s a long road to crazy. I find myself objecting to being categorized among the outsiders of humanity. I’m too outspoken, too loud, too free with my opinions…or perhaps my opinions are too unrestrained. Whatever the reason, I am branded with the rest of you as “different.” Yes, we are a group of unusual people.
Now, I have no problem holding my head up and saying I prefer the unique. Life is too short for conformity. There has been only one major repercussion–I have difficulty selling books.
As an artist, I shrug off the discomfort. As someone who needs to eat, life can become interesting without money. I envision myself as an old man standing in a subway tunnel with an open guitar case. I read poetry to the passing masses. The upturned hat–yeah that’s right–it’s for change.
“Can you spare a dime?”
We are all unique in some way. Fortunately, I am young enough to sustain my lifestyle and my dignity, at least for now. I can’t stop writing. It wouldn’t be possible if I tried. Therein lies the insanity.
Snow–By the end of the day it will all be gone. Like everything it is temporary. I often wonder why as humans we are born with such an absolute sense of permanence. We mourn at the thought of death. Yet, the beauty around us–even as the temperature rises on a snowy day–melts and fades with each passing moment. All things change.
Even I am different. Touched by the watery ice that cascades from the tree tops, I embrace the impermanence. I touch the essence of forever.
Today I noticed my shoes are worn to the brink of decay. My laces are dirty and permanently tied, and there are mud stains that streak the toes. What does that say about me?
I walk a lot. I try to cover at least 2 miles a day. Now that may not seem like much to some of you who go 0 to 60 in a mere 10 seconds, but to me it’s an amazing leap forward–from someone who couldn’t walk even a few steps to someone who climbs over trees fallen in the path.
I’m a writer. Many of you nod and say, “Yes, he can’t afford new shoes.” In a way you’re right. I’d rather spend my money on book covers and supplies than my feet. My shoes, like me, will be gone from the world before the echoes of my words settle into dust. Books give me a legacy, a sense of permanence. Shoes…I am wealthy enough to own them.
Today I looked at my feet and wondered how I’d look in pink boots!