I suppose I should be pondering about risk in regard to its potential successes. Thinkin’ that I must just be thinkin’ that sort of way. Opposed, of course, to wondering and worrying about the idea of failing an attempt, therefore preventing the chance all together that any origin gets wrought out of the raw ore of existence.

I am certainly capable of both perspectives of prospective attempts at means and ideas within life. The latter, it seems, with a lethargic ease, in the moments when I am more aligned with a mind of cowardice.

But the former has shown through, both historically and otherwise. The gambling on a specific, or vague, effort in the hopes to bring about some fresh or refreshed point of view. Or position. Or to parlay with some other soul, in some other flesh.

Hell, I might even be feeling in such a way this very day. The thought of chances being grasped, flirting with schemes of certainty-in hope that the fulfilment of this fleeting life gets a micro measurement closer to complete, even if not a step further beyond that. Though, I should post the disclaimer that early autumn always seems to stir such supplication of the positive in me. Even if only the illusion of fools- summer dying off always helps to create the image within my ambition of things about to begin anew.

Got myself a new copy of an old symbol. A book, it is. A story. Just as good as I recall it being, from so many years ago. Better even, perhaps, being that I might have been too green to grasp it all back then. Though, might be I still am, being nowhere near in lacking the naivety I so often claim in this strange sense of guilt I have against time. So small, a single existence, how could I ever hope to know anything at all, let alone everything that there is to know?

But, anyway.

Spent some time in one of my homes away from home, a few days back. A neighborhood that always seems to welcome me, again and again. Despite the lack of the former, more visceral excitement of years past- the comfort of that town still shines through so much of my cluttered mind. Streets that held tremendous change in my timeline- grand, tragic and many more memories otherwise. The very place where I had both gained and lost the symbol I so recently renewed, as gone the original is likely to be. A place of profound stature, in my life as a young adult. And still it seems, onward and onward.

But it’s the people really, that make it a home. The place just being the setting for all these characters to act within.

So, let’s think about people. The ones that come and go or stay. The ones that create lasting impact, and the ones we cannot remember for their insistence on being forgotten.

Reasonably enough to argue, I could count myself as a common denominator in the attraction of an interesting lot of folks. And evidence would suggest that these folks of interest are so often of the highest human quality. Not a perfect record, to be sure, but the worthwhile humans always seem to be more than just that. Divine players in the philosophical game of attempting to understand this here conscious existence. Each with their own songs to sing, beautiful in so many different ways.

Having uprooted and entirely relocated my life a few times already within this singular existence, I can confirm that encountering fellow travelers in the lifelong sort of business has certainly been in the wheelhouse in each part of the world I’ve lingered about for any substantial period of time. Even a few lasting relationships from but a brief, non-numerous amount of encounters. And even if the physical presences no longer interact, there is an invocation of spirit that resides in perpetuity in cognition and emotional memories.

Which lends me to wondering what introductions are still to be made. Or which past introductions are to gain a seat of greater attention and energy as we march forward. And though there might be an inkling of ideas regarding who and how this will all go about, I know to also trust that the unpredictable often times holds access to them sort of spiritual gates, on the regular. But to get back to the opening point- even something as simple as outward interaction with another soul holds its risk. And instead of the weighted woe of hypothetical social misfiring, the energy instead should be invested in the potential for what is yet to occur.

But we cannot really get into that here, being that it is just me and a digitized typewriter. For the moment.

There feels to be life back withing these ramblings, in a way not had in such potency for some time. Might just be a flash in the pan, but me thinks it more than that. And whilst thinking such thinkings, so too shall they be fought for, forgiving my former faults and incorrect actions. Far from perfect, I can still be disciplined enough to make these introspections something that gains, instead of an exercise in pandering to some lower, lonesome self.

At the heart of my identity, I still feel the itch to do something greater. Both within myself, and outward into the narrow and wider worlds I inhabit. Mentioned last week about the weight of responsibility for enduring impact, I don’t wish to get into the earth shatter ideas here. At least not today. Such avenues only tend to invite short-sighted disagreements on nothing but the principle of conflict. But what is got at here can ultimately be applied to that great, big, scary world (or so the various sorts of broadcasters would have us believing).

But for those larger statements, I save other methods of expression. The more well thought out and structured types of outputs. Not to be made malleable by the impression of debate, but an idea or ideas to be crafted and exerted outward, unchanged whatever the outside reaction might be. I don’t aim to talk politics, though there is certainly plenty to say. Nor do I wish to speak on the specifics of love, be it always hovering about my skull and chest. I do not wish to change anyone’s mind here, only to express my own from within specific confines of space and time. If you’d like to get at those other ideologies, you must wait for the heavier invested works to arrive, of which there is no shortage of conceptual skeletons lingering about.

Or you could just talk to me about them, if a mono e mono fashion is something you might be into.

Either way, I’ll be wrapping up this soliloquy shortly. Other objectives to be met. Other ideas that could use some pondering. And maintenance for continuing this fully employed, single dad lifestyle. Laundry, dishes, recording new tracks, or mixing the ones already laid. And a live concert to edit. And a short story collection to gather and further scheme. And some daydreaming, even though the sun has set. And wondering and wishing about the future, while not letting my present get chewed to pieces by the ghosts of days now former.

Onward we go. As it happens- as it is meant to happen.