Rolling Home

Well I don't know, I ain't been told
Everybody wants a hand to hold. 
They're so afraid of being old, 
so scared of dying, so unknown 
and so alone, rollin' home. 


You'll hear me talk a lot on this blog about being alive, and storming after dreams. I would say they're obsessions, and I do my best to always be doing both.

Recently I was talking with a friend, and he asked, "why wouldn't people just do what they want all the time?" Why indeed, settle for a job you hate or at best dislike, and put away what you truly want as being unattainable, silly, and generally impossible?

I can't answer that. If I could, I'd be very rich. But I think it has something to do with the above lyrics, from a folk song. Some deep fear -- maybe of being the only on the road  you're on, the outcast, the wandering beggar. Or maybe not. Maybe it just takes too much energy. Sit down, you're rocking the boat, indeed.

I don't know the way out. I think I have some inkling, what works for me at least. A few years ago, I thought I wanted to save the world. That was a pretty ridiculous thing to think, but it was hard to let go of. So scared of dying, so unknown and so alone, right? But I realized somewhere along the way, I don't need to save the world to make a difference. I don't even need to try.

There's nothing big I want to prove, no mountains that I need to move
or even claim what's right or true for you. 
My sights, my songs are slightly charred, but things are only what they are, and nothing new --
But for me, I think they'll do. 


Now I just have my dreams. They are what they are, and for me, they work, and I storm after them with an obsession that is if not blind, at least consuming. I don't have to move mountains, just climb them step by step.

As for me, I think that'll do.