Here We Go Again

The urge reemerges yet again. I desire to attempt the Herculean feat of developing a blog where the thoughts pestering my mind find fertile soil in which to germinate or at least lay dormant until I feed and water them.

I am not Hercules. I lack his many attributes: incredible strength of not only body but of mind; persistence and fortitude, focus and determination. Even now, as I struggle with uncovering the essence of the thoughts I attempt to convey here, other distractions divert my attention like trying to play music on Spotify on my tablet, the same on which I am scribing this piece, ignoring the staccato bleating of laughter erupting teenagers sitting only a few tables away from me at the Barnes and Noble Starbuck's at which I regularly write.

So why embark on such a journey, ill-fated, doomed from the start, a vessel, not seaworthy, piloted by a landlubber, contented to spend his days, not on the seas, but pouring over maps of those seas, collecting the tools necessary to take the trip never realized, and reviewing an itinerary, detailed and plotted, with eccentric persons to encounter and locations to be experienced. Simply, I remain planted in my comfortable armchair, unwilling to step outside my front door. If not for basic bodily needs such as eating and income, the outside world might remain a mystery to me.

Bilbo Baggins of the well-beloved novel The Hobbit, suffered from such a deficiency; he knew enough of his weakness to be content in it. But Bilbo Baggins participated in a social circle of a kind which did not permit his stagnancy. It demanded that he create more with his life than to spend the remaining days holed up in his den. A wizard and group of dwarves yanked him from that hole, tipping a domino in a set of dominos falling one after another, sometimes in unison, leading not to just one book but four full books containing the battle of elves, dwarves, and humans; the ultimate fight between good and evil; and a good deal many other events; all by which fantasy adventures are measured.

Most of us do not possess such friends, those not afraid to step from the cliff with the faith that a giant eagle will come to their rescue before they impact with the ground, persons who fail to see the invisible barriers and chains that link us forever to one role and location. These optimists and doers understand that a series of opportunities to be seized compose the world in which they reside, every one forever lost in time if not grasped with eager hands. The spread their optimism and can-do attitude to others around them, demand that the most rooted person act in the face of circumstances.

For those of us unfortunate to lack such friends, we must step into the role of optimist and doer. We must seize ourselves by the scruff neck, pull ourselves out of our own cozy dens, and shove ourselves out the front door, locking it behind ourselves without a key to gain reentry so that the world and all of its erratic happenings are thrust upon us and we are required to experience it. Being released from our cage, we begin to provide a context to the places on the map we spent hours pouring over and the itinerary that we developed and encounter the strange people who frequent those places we imagined but never visited.

I lack the tenacity of Hercules, but I can imagine I possess it. And my imaginary possession manifests into actual possession because the mind remains a realm unrestrained by limitations and in which we may accomplish Herculean feats as like Hercules himself. I can find the focus it takes to scribe a blog on a regular basis and develop an audience for my musings and thoughts.

And so, in writing this, I throw open the door to my den and step outside of the den one hairy foot at a time, ill-prepared, with a backpack stuffed with items that I do not need and none of the required things, uncertain but excited at the road before me. I set the key to the front door right inside the door, press the locking mechanism on the inside of the door and let it close. I turn toward the future and recall the words of Bilbo himself, "'It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,' he used to say. 'You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no telling where you might swept off to.'"