Spilled Ink (Currently undergoing updates.)

raalf:

Watching through the window and lost in thoughts about all i could be, all i can be

Plans delve in knots in roads of the mind, one thought taking over another like cars on a highway

Sun reflects against a surface of the glass, overwhelming the room with light 

Doubt overtakes me. Each next step is not what should be done. Its’ Wednesday

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I try and forget, push it aside, telling myself that “it is not the goal, it is the path” 

Finish one thing, reflect, reconfigure, continue as a tool of accomplishment

But i am not interested in accomplishment, i need fulfillment?

And i hide from myself in most creative ways, i can tell you, so finding out 

What it is it that truly moves me, what is it that i want to be remembered for

Hides a question why do i want to be remembered to begin with?

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Do i need love as much as i do? So much so that i want to suck in and draw all world’s love? 

Or i need something small to show people around me that i was courageous, so 

They accept me as i am, and so that whatever i do is OK

So no plan needed, really, just do what you feel and you like and that makes you happy

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OK – then accomplishment just goes out through the window as you can’t build 

Nothing by randomly picking what to do any day, can you?

Accomplishment needs sculpting, knowledge, patience, building, cooperation and persistence 

They need all that is taken for granted and that all know but none do

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But why accomplishment so rules my life? Why does it haunt me?

Do i need prove to all that i am worthy and strong, successful

So i can  be louder at the table, and have fearful eyes directed at me when 

Important questions pop up and i am looked out for guidance, ego?EGO?

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Or do i need to prove to myself that yes i can turn stone to gold, or am I

Factory of meaning for me and others, with me fully assured and fully responsible for direction taken

Or the correct answer is puzzle-like putting pieces of life together in search of where it feels like home

And home is a moving, man

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Ok, scary thought: if today is a white sheet of paper and you can choose now who do you want to be: what are you doing? who are you spending your time with? what are you wearing? where are you living? How do you make your living?

The horror: there is no right answer, no – not even for each of us alone – everyone has infinite number of correct answers.

So then, finishing my cup of coffee, and looking through the window, what is it going to be this morning?

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Cowardly forget it, open up email and get on with it? Something will come my way? 

Or choose, bite, not let go, and build roads where there were none before?

Pick a field, pick a game and play. You are also looking for your game, right?

How do i find my game? Do i make one, as i can’t find the one i want to play?

Ideas?