Dating : Only Fools and Horses

This day had to arrive; I had no idea when or how but it manifested itself, slithering on its belly, silently. Channelling, as I dawdled along indigenous forest pathways with Kenny and Rosie, the proverbial truth cathartically liberating me the ‘liberator’ from the trauma of ‘Christmas Past’. Shedding dry, scaly skin and with it umpteenth illusions, death was imminent, as was rebirth.

For those unaware of my path, up until 14 months ago, I had spent the past 35 years engaged in industry tech, working alongside, with and in, government, banking, mining, oil and gas, legal, hospitality; envisioning, creating, building, redefining, discovering and learning. For the most part, as a freelancer reluctant to commit to anyone over the long term — feeling energised, empowered, and dynamic enough to maintain this status quo — I operated from a place of strength and loved it!

The last 16 years — a wake-up call of note. Shifting from a multi-faceted, creative big picture abundant thinker too, well, not being one. I had ‘Backed to the future’ by perhaps 30 years, smashing into the institutionalised dracone I had spent the previous 30 appalled by; disappointed in; opposing of; transposing too and transforming in spite of. Misplaced enthusiasm, pack mentality, fear, deceptiveness, inauthenticity, limited beliefs, gatekeeping, manipulation, condemnation…shall I continue? Would rather not if you don’t mind.
I went from abundance to well, not so abundant. Confident to not so sure and creative to borderline stagnant. It is here where I surrendered to the inevitable, duly observing the towers crashing. A cycle like no other, running through swamp as thick and hot as freshly laid bitumen — year after year after year. Witnessing virgin concepts and creative wonderment capitulate under the dark ritual of peacocking, lifelessness and control. Y-fronts stuffed with scent-free deodorant sticks and flesh coloured wonderbras with tissue paper! Dying a thousand times only to end up in hell for my habitual tongue biting. From ‘soul tribe’ to contention vibe — An antelope surrounded by cackling Hyena — way more elegant and certainly faster but determined to compete with the illusionists of malformed trickery. The pack animal, skulking within the shadows of the festering stagnant waters of popular opinion and consensus. My dues were being paid, unbeknownst of course but being paid nonetheless.

To be continued…