Wednesday, August 01, 2012
IT'S JUST A COOKIE
I read the fortune inside the cookie and thought about it for a long moment. I was at a crossroads in life, looking for a sign from the universe, from the gods or whatever, to help nudge me in the right direction.
Try something new. So I did.
Today I keep the fortune and a few other things on the table beside my bed. Each item is significant; each is a talisman in some way, giving me strength to stay quiet when I feel like screaming and it's too hot to take a walk.
I remind myself that things could be much worse.
There is something peculiar and silly about a grown man believing in the abstract power of inanimate objects. I believe in science. Then again, I've also experienced the impossible, so who am I to say an origami crane does not contain the power to keep me calm, so I can carry on?
The trouble comes when I try to translate the mysterious into something tangible, useful. The fortune inside the cookie seemed to point me in one direction; I took that road and found it delightful, but I crashed on the way to what I thought was my destination and I've been walking ever since.
I read the fortune again: Now is a good time to try something new. A different road, another direction. But which way to turn? I haven't a clue. It's all so confusing; there is no one to talk with, no one to listen. I am done raving at the wall. I set the controls for the heart of the sun. It's already hot as hell outside, and I don't think my time of burning is done.