What Path Will I Tread: A Wordy Rant on Being in Limbo


I have no great words to begin this tirade. I am sitting, alone and unwashed, on a couch I outwardly despise and inwardly tolerate. It wasn’t my first choice, or my second, but a compromise born out of necessity.

It is a terrible thing, to have the time to contemplate a couch. I would much rather contemplate the great questions of our time, or at least identify what those questions are. I am a nomad, in thought and desire, not because of an inability to choose a path but a profound lack of interest in those presented to me, or even in those of my choosing. Physical creation holds the greatest appeal for me, shaping, progressing, moving something into existence merely from an effort of time and will.

However, I am no God. I cannot create from nothing, breathe life into the lifeless, or shape the empty space in front of me. I must have a medium, changing life into different life, and it is the medium that evades me. I, like many, have a strong belief in my own importance. I am convinced that I have something of great merit to say, to create, to share with a world that, until this point, was lacking my input.

It is in these solitary, unclean hours of the day that I find my mind most desperately hungry for an answer to the questions of “What” and “How?” I have no one and nothing to distract me, and so my mind is free to contemplate and question and doubt.

What is my gift to the unsuspecting world, my 9th Symphony, my Atlas Shrugged? How can I bring this gift to the surface? Will it fight me, kicking and screaming like a petulant child, or will it come naturally, gliding peacefully from the depths like an air bubble through gradually brightening water until it is clear in my mind, an obvious answer that only deigns to reveal itself one morsel at a time?

There is no answer when I ask, only an echo of my fading words to remind me that I’m only asking myself and thus I must provide the answer. I search my idle brain for inspiration, which it seems I can only stumble upon like a child in a cave, moments of sunlight illuminating just a fraction of my path before I must lurch fearfully into the dark once more, hands stretched out before me.  I have no…anything. No rope to cling to or guide to lead me. “I am the master of my domain”, so it’s said. Some find themselves plunging from the cave into the open air, a star-lit sky above them to cheer their accomplishment and rain down glorification. Others wander aimlessly before stepping off a ledge to fall violently into their destruction.

As for myself, I have yet to see which explorer I shall become, one crowned with success amongst my few lucky peers or one lost and forgotten among the masses that cushion a long, dark fall

For all my blindness, I feel courage within me. I feel warmth at my out-reached fingertips like a fire behind a door, out of sight but distinctly present. Whether this warmth is meant to save or consume me has yet to be seen, but it is there and it is just enough to convince me to shuffle forward.

I want to succeed, I want to excel, I want to be everything. I want to know humility and glory, I want to be free and yet a slave to a goal I have set for myself. I want the satisfaction of a wanderer but the gratification of a hard day’s labor, tasting the sweet fruit of my effort.

Like the titans against the gods, these two sides battle ferociously for the right to command my life’s purpose, my heading. I am truly a spectator to this fight, left unknowing for whom I should cheer.

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Comments
2 Responses to “What Path Will I Tread: A Wordy Rant on Being in Limbo”
  1. Karen says:

    Come on world; don’t you see this is a great writer???

  2. Bob M. says:

    Wow – quite likely the best piece of writing I’ve ever seen from you. The fifth paragraph, in particular, is especially lyrical and profound.

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