I read a post recently about a freind of mine's year, he when on to regal us with tales and adventures of 2015, which was only interesting if you know the guy (sorry) but it got me thinking about my past year and I decided to do it too, but with a twist. Instead of writing it as myself I want to do it in the voice of my most favorite character Abbn Ehr,
MY YEAR IN REVIEW by Abbn Ehr
My old goat was want to ponder and reflect upon the happenstance of his life, he would sit atop an old stone he wished to float above his grave and wander the paths of memory. I don't pretend to wonder at his actions while I was in my youth, for a (much) later admission would reveal an immature lack of interest.
As my mind and body ages into a more reflective attitude, one would find me quite pensive. My worries are mostly on what is to come for I abhorre the past as we are doomed to repeat that which is our focus; I would rather repeat the future. Yet quite by accident a rebellion forms in my heart and would be caught perusing that which had been, and sometimes the wiriness of the day releases the inevitable and I succumb to the thoughts, and I remember...
I remember laboring in vaporized lava, a thick and heavy heat that scratches at the skin and soul, testing the very limits of resolve. creeping into the head, then banging to return out of it.
I remember long roads and paths that seemed to congeal with living flesh mixed with their means of travel, oozing along in a death like daze, as if the very road sucked the life from them forming them into a molasses blood to feed its vein like system.
I remember Idiots!
I remember my journey to find purpose. A journey that we must all pursue for the entirety of our existence. For, like a stairway, each step finds us with a new perspective of our surroundings and life, requiring a new understanding.
I remember humility. Not the humble kind, but the kind that is forced upon you by the nature of life. The kind that necessitates a beggars attitude to survival. The kind that embarrasses the soul and eats pride. That kind that creates humility.
Along with the humility I remember much success, yet, not enough to forget the humility.
And then I catch myself in meditation of the past and take a cold shower to drag the reality of present back into my mind, I shutter at the consequence of such actions which are like unto sitting on a grave stone and forgetting to live.
I remind myself that fantasy would serve me far better.
MY YEAR IN REVIEW by Abbn Ehr
My old goat was want to ponder and reflect upon the happenstance of his life, he would sit atop an old stone he wished to float above his grave and wander the paths of memory. I don't pretend to wonder at his actions while I was in my youth, for a (much) later admission would reveal an immature lack of interest.
As my mind and body ages into a more reflective attitude, one would find me quite pensive. My worries are mostly on what is to come for I abhorre the past as we are doomed to repeat that which is our focus; I would rather repeat the future. Yet quite by accident a rebellion forms in my heart and would be caught perusing that which had been, and sometimes the wiriness of the day releases the inevitable and I succumb to the thoughts, and I remember...
I remember laboring in vaporized lava, a thick and heavy heat that scratches at the skin and soul, testing the very limits of resolve. creeping into the head, then banging to return out of it.
I remember long roads and paths that seemed to congeal with living flesh mixed with their means of travel, oozing along in a death like daze, as if the very road sucked the life from them forming them into a molasses blood to feed its vein like system.
I remember Idiots!
I remember my journey to find purpose. A journey that we must all pursue for the entirety of our existence. For, like a stairway, each step finds us with a new perspective of our surroundings and life, requiring a new understanding.
I remember humility. Not the humble kind, but the kind that is forced upon you by the nature of life. The kind that necessitates a beggars attitude to survival. The kind that embarrasses the soul and eats pride. That kind that creates humility.
Along with the humility I remember much success, yet, not enough to forget the humility.
And then I catch myself in meditation of the past and take a cold shower to drag the reality of present back into my mind, I shutter at the consequence of such actions which are like unto sitting on a grave stone and forgetting to live.
I remind myself that fantasy would serve me far better.
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