Chapter 1-The Wolf and the Dove
We keep journeying on because we have too. We continue to push on because we want to. Indeed, this journey through life is fantastic and phantasmagorical one moment and dull and colorless the next. Mostly, our days and times exist somewhere in the middle of the two aforementioned extremes. No matter what is stashed in our backpacks this day, we've got to carry it forward and press on toward that moment when we unstrap those straps and throw it all down.
What can be worse than travelling alone, just to hear the snapping and rustling of the bushes along your path as you walk into nightfall? What is it that is moving through those bushes, keeping pace with you? What was that growling noise -- was it some creature or just your stomach?
No one wants to travel on this journey solo, even when they claim that they just want to be left alone. Everyone desires a friend or two or four to walk and talk with while putting the feet, yards, and miles behind them as they carry on and carry forward. Each of us needs someone to take in the scenery with; even when that scenery is less than captivating. After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, isn't it? And, aren't we each beautiful in our own way, just as God made us? No matter how macho a man or how feminine of a woman you may be, you still want someone to tell you that you are beautiful and that you are loved. What you do not want and what you inwardly fear is that you'll have to finish this journey on your own -- feeling alone, rejected and vulnerable.
Indeed, you fear being alone on that path, burdened by the weight of your pack, not being able to muster the foot speed to outrun what is rustling through the brush; making its way toward you. It turned out that your friends weren’t truly friends at all but just drinking buddies. They were there when the good times were flowing on a sudsy 2 for 1 stream, but now that there is fear and insecurity to combat, where are those so-called friends? Now that you don't know who or what you are, who is there to validate you?
There it is again, the snapping and rustling noises in the bush that indicate that something or someone is moving in there. It stops when you stop and then starts again when you resume walking. Whatever it is, it seems to be toying with you.
You cry out "who is in those bushes!?" Perhaps a more accurate question would be "what is in those bushes?" It seems to be keeping pace with you while a tentative gait is all your wobbly, nervous legs will allow. You want to run, but your legs are like those belonging to Gumby.
Fear is gripping your heart but you are denying it. You've survived up to this day by denying that you are in denial. Denial has been your modus operandi since you made that right-turn off of Jump Street to begin trekking down this path. Denial isn't going to keep you safe anymore. Your day of reckoning has been dropped on you like a Steinway piano from the sky, with a dissonant clang that will not allow you to hear the whispers of your pretty self-delusion.
Your eyes are drawn back to the path, and there are four men up ahead of you. They turn, see you, and begin walking toward you. Now there are four strangers approaching in addition to whatever is shadowing you in those bushes. You’d like to scream, but your throat is tight with fear.
Outside of your periphery a dove, pure and vividly white, lands a high branch of a Willow tree that grows on the bank of the frozen over ditch-like body of water that runs parallel to the left of this snow-covered path you are walking.
Gavin never called again. And, if there is a Goodtime Charlie, he is a con-artist trained by the king of con-artists. Dammit, you need something real! You need someone to walk with you the rest of the way through your life, being there through thick and thin and loving you with deep, abiding devotion.
And what is in those bushes is hideous and ugly. It is hungry...Order it today!
We keep journeying on because we have too. We continue to push on because we want to. Indeed, this journey through life is fantastic and phantasmagorical one moment and dull and colorless the next. Mostly, our days and times exist somewhere in the middle of the two aforementioned extremes. No matter what is stashed in our backpacks this day, we've got to carry it forward and press on toward that moment when we unstrap those straps and throw it all down.
What can be worse than travelling alone, just to hear the snapping and rustling of the bushes along your path as you walk into nightfall? What is it that is moving through those bushes, keeping pace with you? What was that growling noise -- was it some creature or just your stomach?
No one wants to travel on this journey solo, even when they claim that they just want to be left alone. Everyone desires a friend or two or four to walk and talk with while putting the feet, yards, and miles behind them as they carry on and carry forward. Each of us needs someone to take in the scenery with; even when that scenery is less than captivating. After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, isn't it? And, aren't we each beautiful in our own way, just as God made us? No matter how macho a man or how feminine of a woman you may be, you still want someone to tell you that you are beautiful and that you are loved. What you do not want and what you inwardly fear is that you'll have to finish this journey on your own -- feeling alone, rejected and vulnerable.
Indeed, you fear being alone on that path, burdened by the weight of your pack, not being able to muster the foot speed to outrun what is rustling through the brush; making its way toward you. It turned out that your friends weren’t truly friends at all but just drinking buddies. They were there when the good times were flowing on a sudsy 2 for 1 stream, but now that there is fear and insecurity to combat, where are those so-called friends? Now that you don't know who or what you are, who is there to validate you?
There it is again, the snapping and rustling noises in the bush that indicate that something or someone is moving in there. It stops when you stop and then starts again when you resume walking. Whatever it is, it seems to be toying with you.
You cry out "who is in those bushes!?" Perhaps a more accurate question would be "what is in those bushes?" It seems to be keeping pace with you while a tentative gait is all your wobbly, nervous legs will allow. You want to run, but your legs are like those belonging to Gumby.
Fear is gripping your heart but you are denying it. You've survived up to this day by denying that you are in denial. Denial has been your modus operandi since you made that right-turn off of Jump Street to begin trekking down this path. Denial isn't going to keep you safe anymore. Your day of reckoning has been dropped on you like a Steinway piano from the sky, with a dissonant clang that will not allow you to hear the whispers of your pretty self-delusion.
Your eyes are drawn back to the path, and there are four men up ahead of you. They turn, see you, and begin walking toward you. Now there are four strangers approaching in addition to whatever is shadowing you in those bushes. You’d like to scream, but your throat is tight with fear.
Outside of your periphery a dove, pure and vividly white, lands a high branch of a Willow tree that grows on the bank of the frozen over ditch-like body of water that runs parallel to the left of this snow-covered path you are walking.
Gavin never called again. And, if there is a Goodtime Charlie, he is a con-artist trained by the king of con-artists. Dammit, you need something real! You need someone to walk with you the rest of the way through your life, being there through thick and thin and loving you with deep, abiding devotion.
And what is in those bushes is hideous and ugly. It is hungry...Order it today!
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