The rain today was calming, yet I felt in this calm a sense of frustration that I cannot fully explain. The week felt mechanical and ordinary: a production line in which was fabricated the workings of my day.

The cogs that turn the gears that run the motors that perpetuate the machine that works to pay the bills.

The mechanics of ordinary!

The “rat race” as I see it is filled with my kind, and at times I wonder if life isn’t easier as a rat, you can blend in

Avoid the eyes of the fat cats who eat my brother rats becomes my sole purpose.

In this world of the ordinary life can be extraordinary

Security for my family, a roof over my head, the constructs of the great American dream… not bad!

But, today I was not happy as a rat.

 

Being part of the rat race isn’t that bad if you’re in the lead

But this is where the fat cats like to feast

Therefore life back in the pack with the rest of the rats is where I find my place

The cogs that turn the gears that run the motors that perpetuate the machine that works to pay the bills!

 

Being ordinary isn’t that bad

 

My rat cage is a fabrication of my fear.

Fear of the unknown.

Fear of pissing of the God’s that maintain “security”

But this year something happened, I realized the constructs of the cage are as much in my imagination as the fear that built them.

When the house fell down and I was still standing

 

I remember as a child I would play for hours on my backyard swing

There I would imagine the inexorable possibilities of life and conjure my great plans for the future.

Traveling to the  lost worlds as Indiana Jones!

I feel this way now when I push my kids on the swing. I see it in the worriless curves of their tiny beautiful faces.

 

Risk is subjective I presume I think what’s risky is living your life and never trying for anything and never doing something brave and never getting yourself scared.