Pushing the Borderline. Chapter 4

He was like the mountain berber coming down from the hills to the market place with his goats swagger filled with water from the mountain springs, a brass cup in his hands and a firm belief that the water would bring you renewed relief without uttering one word but just sipping the cool clear liquid.
At the same time he was fighting, trying to resist the temptation of turning back. Back to the four walls with the bed and the pillow where he could drown some og his fears.
He went on alone. Was a little exhausted, thinking that he had never experienced this dramatic feeling of aloneness and exhaustion. He wanted to go on and on towards the future where all his dreams , visions and expectations were waiting for him. But it was trying. There were times when he felt that he was getting nowhere- but this was seldom- he was annoyed that feelings interrupted his quest. Sometimes he even thought that his wandering, even though determined, was selfish. But really what he was trying to do was, survive and at the same time endeavouring to enjoy the moment.
Came easy at times, other times he had to exert himself and find some thought- distraction. His feelings got in the way. Having a dream was okay, it was hanging on to that dream that was so damned difficult. He thought as he jotted down on his invisible notepad.
Grey skies were cumulating on the horizon, he was going to high-tail out of the city limits and continue his meandering along dirt roads, mountain trails and dry creek beds, persuing his goal.. He was cool. His main goal was to hit the borderline.
Of temptation, lust, rebellion, sanity-withholding optimism, sensitivity, integrity and a good portion light-hearted humour.
The road would be rugged and the way to go, unpredictable. He thought of being humble without feeling treacherous humility. Not having personally, met the devil himself, he knew he would be lurking in dark shadows. Who was afraid of dark shadows? These are childsplay and youths anxiety. He wished them the most glamorous path with the ether of streaming satellitic sunny star strewn eternal dreamsville loveliness attitude. It was as though the future was foreseen without the assistance of a fortune teller. Simultaneously the devils very own shadow lurked inevitably. Very spooky indeed. He was cool. Not though a care could chase away the hysteria of his concern. He was too fucking serious about life all in all. His id was overriding and his imagination was lacking. Demons and fairies , in his childish mind made him forge his latent madness while angels were trying to get through to him. What did he believe in? He was very much like any old simpelton worth his weight in gold. Why worry- it would only project.
What was right? The day or night? The best to win would be self-esteem. It would be good to remind himself that pride is an ingredient of self-esteem along with the joy of an open heart and mind and when the time came- a fathomless soul.
Meandring per usual- jotting down on the invisible notepad. Crossing the borderline? Well the devil was there as well, pushing his way. So maybe he might just divert to Uncle Tom’s cabin. Whatever sort of nourishment he could find there would be food for the mind.
Steel monkey, endlessness, deliverance.
Free from divinity. He thought that God could free him from feeling insufficiency. Even though he felt he was of use, it always came back to him- this loneliness and insecurity.
The truth is built on every individual conception. This makes truth inconceivable: he jotted down on his invisible notepad.
But love went deep- nobody but the angles did better. To be accused was not a truth for him because that sort of truth was a misconception. It was also a misunderstanding. No judgement was ever ever fair or righteous. The dualty, ambiguous misconstrued truth of right and left , male or female. That just about came close enough to his personal truth.
No cabin- just rocks and hanging cliffs. Stone carved nature. So he climbed, the sun beaming down from a clear blue sky. Snakes basking on the warm firmament, a couple of dried out bushes crackling with the touch. Not even a chicken could live here. He could see the plateau above but beyond ?
Tomorrow never happens. Love just walked away from me ,he jotted on his notepad.
No explanation. Love just walked in the door. . He could smother it all over the face of the cliffs and the rock climber touching her tongue with his and sucking the honey nectar from her fingers. Like a butterfly he jotted down on the invisible notepad- gathering nectar. . .

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