The Path It Takes

The path it takes are many.

Never one; two, three, four, or more…and then back to too.

Many or either too little, the path it takes is always different than “ours.”

Where, the constant question,  is this path?

The many and the little are here in form: paths become avenue, walks in flow, tastes as tongue.

It always takes on a different path -we think, and thus we are always on an escape route that never exits.

Driving thoughts merge and cut others off.

Collisions crash.

Mental highways.

A flat tire leaves us tired.

The shaft, the crank, our vehicle is the focus and it seems to be around us, passing by.

It goes and goes as we focus on personal maintenance, work!

Life is everywhere but in our brokenness, trite abandonedness, and pessimistic thoughts of “Of course they drive by!,” as we change the tire.

No one seems to stop to help us when we need them most, especially when we need them most.

We are the ones left stranded in it but not of it, not a part of it, not wholly it, but our own whole, creating thus -better thou, as an it, it as our very selves.

Our preferences dichotomize not only the world, but our innermost identity into paths that need to be found. Such different and distinct roads pervade us and instead of always being on the path, we are constantly looking for it.

No longer is it about taking just any ole’ path, it’s the realization there is only path.

Every step is the right direction. There are no mistakes as we’ve been told by Bach and Davis. Every fumble and fall is being found. Every taste equates to permanent touch. Personal dissolution is the only solution.

It’s not that we are merely cars driving in different lanes suffering from the occasional breakdown, flat tire, or overheated engine. We drive together, we survive together, we die together. Let us then breathe together and be together, with ourselves, with our sight, and with our mind. Let us get it together, stand tall, and proclaim: “Togetherness indeed!” The outstanding proclamation where two becomes one and it becomes none. Leaving only the flower bloomed and morning dew resting politely on the pedal where it belongs.

Let’s learn to be okay when our vehicles breakdown and we struggle to get going again.

Let us be content with changing our own tires.

Maybe once we stop and realize the struggle of trying to do something alone, by the might of ourselves and our stubborn, self-defeated wills, we’ll see the good in lending a helping hand.

Maybe once the car is stuck and stinks of neglect, we’ll look far past ourselves, our situations, and into the distance to see the constant and simple connection we all share, regardless of whether we’d like to admit it or not.

Even as others drive by and the dust from their spinning tires whips against our cheeks and chapped lips, dare not allow our particular ignorance to advert.

Taste the soot of a gritty lash.

How dry it is!

Maybe next time we see someone struggling to change a tire or who’s run out of gas, we’ll choose to be the one who stops and helps.

Maybe it’s not always about us individually, but us collectively.

Maybe realizing the path it takes is seeing that it is not our own, but ours to share.