Damn how these squirrels outsmart at the suet feeder and deprive hungry woodpeckers their seed. Out from a snow tunnel the rat hightails toward the scattered ground. Theft is unstoppable.
Jamie witnesses no evidence of doubt in these creatures, and why would he? Is uncertainty what delays the rat from leaving cover? Is dubiety a predator? Don’t give them credit. Jamie has towers of his own shadows to rassle, and plenty to share. Jamie swept all that so-called from his desk years ago. Doesn’t stop the questioning, just breaks a few associations and buries others. Fragments reassemble in new and varying forms. The saying ‘failure is the path toward’ best settle in as a teacher soon.
Still doubt has Jamie in a stutter. Like failure, negativity and judgment cross him with loads of anger and rejection. Such an early lesson. Who needs an other to beat the self?
Upon waking in a warm cocoon, air chilled by deep-freeze, hours on a lagging project first to mind, judges in the game leer Jamie toward laxity over completion. Sure bet, invite a word ‘biblically associated with sin and negativity’ or ‘uncertain – with a somewhat negative connotation’ to sit down and provide guidance. Jamie’s dream-state magic is still within reach so his eyelids droop sending this judgement of unproductivity back to has-been lane. Better to dream.
Urges fight to surface. Certain memories confront the blithering self as bully and as bullied. Give up doubt or give up enterprise Jamie says. Witness those worse for wear and grow some compassion.
Such a boar, this strangle hold of confidence, when a drive into the ‘never more’ is just round the corner. Hundreds of times the nightmare repeats where the bear chases o’re hill and dale ‘till Jamie stumbles awake in breathless dread, only to know the bear now patiently hides in the dark closet ‘cross the hall awaiting. Gains in knowledge and experience drive Jamie’s trite rants on truths-of-a-sort back toward a humbling in-authenticity. Errors are buried everywhere. Get over yourself, the inside of Jamie cries. Happiness is overrated and sadness deceptively selfish.
The rustle of aspen leaves soothe unlike any other tree. Jamie climbs the trunk high, aware of weak wood, and immerses his brain in the soft whispering haven of a quacking rustle.
The song Jaime hears is: Do the work that matters.