Triage

Sometimes it’s hard to know what to do first. The urgency, the timeliness, the importance, the necessity, the preference, the avoidance. The preparation, the resources, the capacity, the execution.

Before you do it the limitless potential of endless possibilities glows with open ended, undecided freedom to move in any direction. Succeed at any level, complete and fulfill dreams of excelling and winning and closing the loop. There are no mistakes in an imagined future, no failures, no disappointment. Only a golden brick road of perfection stretching out as far as the eye can see.

If it doesn’t turn out that way will you even tell yourself? Do you let yourself see it warts and all or do you gloss over the faults and blur out the details to the contrary? Do you level with anyone, really? Once you do the thing it will be what it is and not what it could be. What it might have been. The imagined ideal. It will be real and real things have flaws.

The thing that matters is not perfection but commitment. Reliably imperfect. Consistently flawed. Shows up. Tries its best. Delivers within acceptable parameters. Depending on what is valuable in this context the reality may be nowhere near the ideal and yet effective. Accepted. Sufficient. Enough.

Bright reason. Each in its time. The very roots dug deep. Enough of the right things to function. Just what’s required. Space to grow. Sheltered by the winds. In a long row of variations one takes hold. Then another. And so it begins.

When the stakes are high will you open? Can you hold space in high winds, flexible and strong, relentless as water, gravity, accountability, current. Tide. How much of a surface can you present to the pressure, building, fading, shaking the foundations, holding up the sky.

Which dream are you dreaming now, the memory of dreams from before paving a way past faint obstacle, transparent division, elevated plane. Each absent option mapping direction onto pathways invisible to the naked eye.

Treasures and trifles, the steps we go through, the process as it is. First one, then the other. Renewing predictable outcomes, devising subtle games. No one person could have done it, this was a Cinderella story. We could only succeed together. We can always fail alone.

Some things are more important than others. Not everyone can see what is visible. Before nothing can be done we have to clear up everything. And no one knows like you do. Preventing, predicating, preserving, parade. Only you can. But should you?

There isn’t any way around. Despite all rumors to the contrary free will carries water while obligation chops wood. Grinning like a fool you move forward, head turned, eyes averted. The feet follow suit. Hands up, arms akimbo, toes turned in.

One slow rotation. A gesture of faith. A fire ignites. Night blossoms bring intoxicating perfumes, winding inward, ever starting, rising still.