Surviving

Feeling the warmth of the sun on a cloudy day. A glimpse into a blind billy goat's unique, ever changing perspectives.

2017 06 23 Journal Excerpt: Page 37 June 23, 2017

 

Our lives are full of stories that we keep with us through time. The years are filled with trends that we latch on to with a ferocity for excitement. Myself, I have what you could call an addictive personality, so the trends, the impulses, the things that latch on to me become very addictive to me, and man do they have a way of changing me. Some of these trends, as quickly as they grab hold of us, they also can just as quickly pack their bags and move on down the road, rapidly being replaced by the next trend, the next impulse.

 

This next page deals with a couple of those trends, those things in my life that had a unique way of latching on to me. Some times we don’t notice one trend being replaced by another, but often times, we do.

 

It’s Friday, and I hope you all have a great rest of your day, and weekend.

 

Deon

 

***

 

Page 37

Summer 2011

 

There were many instances of my lack of concentration getting the better of me. Through it all, I had to learn how to trust my mobility instructors, and I’m very glad I did. Gaining trust in them allowed me to focus on the most important thing of all, my relationship with my cane. I had to learn how to trust my cane along with trusting my instructors, for my cane was also an instructor. My cane talked to me. It spoke in a language that I had to study, and as I began to understand the cane, I began to figure out how to open the doors of mobility., As I walked through those doors, I learned another lesson, probably the biggest one of all. I began to learn that I lost my vision so that I might learn how to see. The mobility, the assistive technology, the additional heightened senses, the inspiration that was coming at me, that was touching me, that began to rise up from within me, all of these additions to my life were so very unexpected, and to this day I’m still learning from each and every one of them.

 

Other emotions were having their way with me as well. It had been a year since the world had grown dark around me, and through the 2011 summer, I was constantly reminded of just how much I couldn’t see. I was a stubborned blind man with a passion for hanging on to my independence. I didn’t want to let go of the past, of my life with sight, and as the days progressed, small pieces of my past life, of my independence fell through my fingers and away from the present. Every time it happened, I shuddered inside as I lay another part of my past to rest. Realizing all of the things that I couldn’t do any more was a painful task that wreaked havoc on my vulnerable soul.

 

The tears that had flowed so freely began to diminish with time, and with each incident of bitter truth, I eventually felt like a damp dish rag that had been wrung out over and again and over and again. I tried to find things to feel happy about, but the happiness didn’t last long. The smiles quickly turned to a thin lipped frown that was full of anger, resentment and fear.

 

Man, as I write this, I’m being flooded by samples of those emotions. Here it is several years later, and the heart still races, the anxiety still rushes and the doubt still creeps in.

 

That summer of 2011 also saw me say goodbye to a dear old friend. I had written about my roto-tiller that sat idle through the summer of 2010. I wrote about pushing it back to the garage through half a foot of snow in early December. I wrote about how she hollered and screamed at me for just one more chance to run through the garden. As she cried, so did I. Another part of my past was slowly coming to a sad end.

 

I ended up trading the tiller for a 12 string Fender electric acoustic guitar in the summer of 2011. Lynne posted an ad somewhere that I would like to trade the tiller, and at just about the same time, she saw another ad from a gentleman in Moscow who was looking to trade his guitar for a tiller. That’s Moscow Maine. Grin It was meant to be, and saying goodbye to my old ground chomping friend was one of the hardest things I had ever done. If not for another girl entering my life at the same time, I don’t know what I would have done. Holding that guitar in my arms as he drove away with the tiller was the worst of times, and the best of times. I could hear my tiller screaming to me as he drove away, but I also heard a sweet 12 stringed lullaby softly playing in my ear.

 

Man, the emotions that swept down through me during these times was simply amazing. I guess they played a major role in helping to build a new foundation that started to replace the one that was being slowly demolished. Is demolish a good description? I’m sure there’s a more suited word, but at times it sure felt like it was truly being demolished.

 

Life continued to come at me. It didn’t care what I was going through. It didn’t care in the least. It was only able to continue on as before.

 

No matter what.

 

To be continued…

 

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2014 06 24 Conformistificational June 24, 2014

Well hi there, and how the hell am I anyway? It’s been a while since I posted a regular entry in my blog, well, that is, I don’t think any of them have been regular, right? I mean, look at me! I’m rather irregular looking and full of things that are far from conformistificational. I don’t look like others, I don’t act like others, and you can ask my wife about that. I don’t sound like others, and my feet got longer when I turned forty. Yep. That’s me. An unnatural, rare oddity that eludes all logical explanations that have anything to do with whatever the hell it is that I’m writing, because I don’t have a frigging clue.

I suppose that a lot of us wander around our lives, trying to act like this person, or look like that person. We want to purchase things that this guy has, or that woman uses, or what those folks are listening to. With all the input and expectations and gimmicks and billboards pointing you in this direction and tugging you in that direction, how the hell can we ever figure out what it is that we really like? How do we ever know what makes us tick when we’re paying attention to someone else’s clock? When the sun comes up, do we get up because we want to, or because they tell us we need to hurry the hell up and get our lazy cabooses down to McDonalds and grab a dollar coffee? Is my mini van maroon because I love maroon, or because the dealer told me it looks good on me?

I suppose, once again, that I have never been really comfortable in my skin. Is it because of who was staring back at me in the mirror, or is it because the mirror was tuned into channel thirteen and they were discussing how fat to not get or how ugly I wouldn’t be if I bought this or used that?

It’s maddening to try and figure out who to be if we just don’t stop for a moment or three and figure it out ourselves. Why do we need someone else to tell us or show us or explain to us or persuade us or conceal from us or elude to us or condemn us or someone please stop me or I’ll probably never find the end of this stoopid sentence!

Phew. Ok, then.

Back to reality, or whatever that thing for sale was on that last commercial.

I have been searching for myself, for who I am, for what’s inside me these past four years. I suppose it’s been probably longer than that, but who’s counting.

I have always wondered what others see in me, but I think I have always paid more attention to how they express themselves around me, because of me. How I am interpreted by outside influenced dudes and dudettes has played such a vital role in my own perceptions of me, myself and I. If I was able to resemble a smart person, I would have figured out a long time ago that what matters most is how we feel about ourselves, because of what is inside us, and not what is fed to us by external sources.

I never liked who was staring back at me, and it was due mostly to visual persuasions. I didn’t like what I saw, so I became exactly what it was that I was only able to see. I was never that same person in the mirror. I never felt like him or wanted to pretend to be him. Who I felt like on the inside was always ass backwards from what the reflection held.

Hey everybody! Listen up! You are who you are, no matter what we think, or what we say, or how we act! I am who ai am, she is who she is, he be who he be, and they better get the hell out of my way, because these canes are made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do. One of these days this cane is gonna walk all over, umm, walk all over, err, umm, walk all over, huh?

Where was I?

Non conformistic, pre-determined conditionary maneuver number 433.952 complete. Please return your trays to their upright positions before landing, and thank you for flying feet first.

Well, there I go again with another irregular post.

It’s pretty safe to say that I’m lost, so, I’m gonna go out to look for myself. If you should see me return before I get back, please ask me to wait, ok?