Roadside cutlery

One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree.

Which road do I take? she asked.

Where do you want to go? was his response.

I don't know, Alice answered.

Then, said the cat, it doesn't matter.

~ Lewis Carroll

How many times have I reached an impasse, unsure which way to turn. Closing my eyes, spinning wildly until I have lost all direction, stumbling forward with a prayer that I chose the right path.

My inner compass spinning just as out of control at a dizzying speeds. First pointing left, the right, then back the way I came. No map in hand, no light to mark the path, no guide to show me the way.

I search for bread crumbs left by those who cross this way before me. The ravens, wiley carrion feeders, perch high above the road waiting for me to fail and leave my withering body for their fete.

Do I stop here, choosing not to choose in anticipation of a fellow traveler coming down the path, one not so lost as me, to hold my hand and point the way?

Do I forge onward, hoping to overtake travelers ahead of me, riding their coattails to our destination?

My only other option is to make my own way, pushing forward, making my own path, creating my own future.

What to do, what to do?

 

Tara R.

Thin spiral notebook

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