I Live My Life On Hunches
Great big do or die hunches. And I guess there is no real easy way to explain this except to say, I am a body of opposites, constantly battling for control, time at the wheel, to steer clear of dangerous waters or charge right through.
I hate emotional turmoil and yet believe nothing truly beautiful is achieved without it. Trust me, life would be easier if I could simply resign myself to mediocrity and post my address as the corner bar. Or the Patron factory…
At any rate, I have often blamed my skewed beliefs on my Native American heritage. So am I Catholic? Hell yes! Right down to my filthy guilt ridden bones! But I also believe that the universe is a mysterious thing, not for us to judge, define, or even partially imagine we can see the fuzzy outlines. I have dreams of the future.
Sometimes they come true within the week, sometimes going through an old journal I’ll realize that I dreamed of something two years in advance, a car accident, chance encounter, a new job opportunity. Every now and then you’ll find me keeping an eye out… five years later, sure none-the-less, that dreams do come true.
I dreamt of my cousins’ death for fifteen years straight before it happened, the morning the call came I was dreaming it again. It was the last time I had that dream. Those are the ones you hope are just dreams… as fictitious as the ones where you can fly, fight with Hollywood starlets, win the lottery.
But while I’m awake I often get hunches, something that tells me, screams at me, ‘DO IT!’
And I do, I don’t research, I don’t look around, I jump. Knowing that even if I fail, this is where I’m supposed to be. Where life intended me to head. So that even when I am broke, over committed, and frustrated as all fuck, I know that I am doing the right thing.
I once listened to my head over my heart. Boy was that a complete fuck up. It took me one short year to lose sight of who I was. How can I explain this? When I make a wrong decision, I feel like I’m walking on air… as if the ground beneath my feet isn’t there. And when something bad is going to happen? But I need to experience it? I feel like my stomach is stapled to the ground on a train heading north. I don’t even bother looking at the scenery in these instances, because what’s the point? And when things are going right? When they are a sure thing? I’m all momentum, sliding down a greased tube with success up ahead.
But lately? Twice my instincts have been held up for ransom. It’s a weird feeling, all that momentum hitting a brick wall. And my dreams don’t help.
I dreamt I was under water, terrified, only to find I could breathe.
I dreamt that a tidal wave hit and I only had time to save my sister. Afterwards I found my mother and held on tight crying, I could only save one, and I chose her. I’m so sorry.
I dreamt of a man on a beach, that looked suspiciously like him, and I was happy. Hap hap happy.
I got an email this morning regarding one of my hunches gone wrong, and I was right. I am back on track, derailed, waylaid, but still bound for the original destination. Something in my soul let out a tightly held breath and I found myself relaxed, confident in the future once more.
But the last? I am uneasy, on edge, I have the feeling that my stomach is stapled to the floor one moment, full of momentum the next. This is never, ever, a recipe for success. And so, I think, for the moment, I will ignore the scenery. Prepare instead.
I hate emotional turmoil and yet believe nothing truly beautiful is achieved without it. Trust me, life would be easier if I could simply resign myself to mediocrity and post my address as the corner bar. Or the Patron factory…
At any rate, I have often blamed my skewed beliefs on my Native American heritage. So am I Catholic? Hell yes! Right down to my filthy guilt ridden bones! But I also believe that the universe is a mysterious thing, not for us to judge, define, or even partially imagine we can see the fuzzy outlines. I have dreams of the future.
Sometimes they come true within the week, sometimes going through an old journal I’ll realize that I dreamed of something two years in advance, a car accident, chance encounter, a new job opportunity. Every now and then you’ll find me keeping an eye out… five years later, sure none-the-less, that dreams do come true.
I dreamt of my cousins’ death for fifteen years straight before it happened, the morning the call came I was dreaming it again. It was the last time I had that dream. Those are the ones you hope are just dreams… as fictitious as the ones where you can fly, fight with Hollywood starlets, win the lottery.
But while I’m awake I often get hunches, something that tells me, screams at me, ‘DO IT!’
And I do, I don’t research, I don’t look around, I jump. Knowing that even if I fail, this is where I’m supposed to be. Where life intended me to head. So that even when I am broke, over committed, and frustrated as all fuck, I know that I am doing the right thing.
I once listened to my head over my heart. Boy was that a complete fuck up. It took me one short year to lose sight of who I was. How can I explain this? When I make a wrong decision, I feel like I’m walking on air… as if the ground beneath my feet isn’t there. And when something bad is going to happen? But I need to experience it? I feel like my stomach is stapled to the ground on a train heading north. I don’t even bother looking at the scenery in these instances, because what’s the point? And when things are going right? When they are a sure thing? I’m all momentum, sliding down a greased tube with success up ahead.
But lately? Twice my instincts have been held up for ransom. It’s a weird feeling, all that momentum hitting a brick wall. And my dreams don’t help.
I dreamt I was under water, terrified, only to find I could breathe.
I dreamt that a tidal wave hit and I only had time to save my sister. Afterwards I found my mother and held on tight crying, I could only save one, and I chose her. I’m so sorry.
I dreamt of a man on a beach, that looked suspiciously like him, and I was happy. Hap hap happy.
I got an email this morning regarding one of my hunches gone wrong, and I was right. I am back on track, derailed, waylaid, but still bound for the original destination. Something in my soul let out a tightly held breath and I found myself relaxed, confident in the future once more.
But the last? I am uneasy, on edge, I have the feeling that my stomach is stapled to the floor one moment, full of momentum the next. This is never, ever, a recipe for success. And so, I think, for the moment, I will ignore the scenery. Prepare instead.
