D.A.R.D.

What we can always rely on with confidence is who we are - our own personal Northern Stars to guide us through the sins we commit. The blank slates of our life continuously imprinted upon by grace, marred by betrayal, caressed by romance and love, defaced beyond recognition by loss and missed opportunities yet embroidered with memories of beauty and the mystical. The sins of our fathers, they haunt us like they were our own. Countless folds upon folds of unvoiced agony alongside the multitude of tears shed for joy, sorrow, grief and anger emanate within us. Silently dictating which path we take along the labyrinthine journey of life. Every step one takes along their path inevitably becomes an indispensable part of them, becoming one with the traveller's personal vat. Personal. Who we are. Who are we?

Some believe that we are the product of what we are put through, twisted metal scraps regurgitated from the grinder. Others believe that we are what we were taught to be, perverse images of flamboyant ideals.

Although I cannot invalidate the two, I must add that there is more to the equation. We are also the fruit born of what we want to become. Our capability to learn through interaction and through observation allows us to take a look at the bigger picture and decide what we would like to become. What I speak of has been labelled as intra-personal intelligence. Such introspection exists but is not practiced by all. Looking into one's self is not always simple and may be harrowing for some.

It is the examination of what we have become as a result of the collective trauma and glee which we have seen and been put through. We do actively choose what we become but it may not always be a choice we readily or even consciously make but there is always a choice. Heavily dependent on what one believes in for him or herself: True Justice, True Love, True Peace, True Joy, the list continues. The quest we embark upon is for the personal development of ourselves as engines of our beliefs.

Alas, through the twine of some lives, there is not time enough for such petty self-indulgence. Life carries on and little or no concern goes along with the decisions which are made with repercussion to the neighbour. The road is rocky, worn are the wheels but the truck which is them will still trample upon the livestock it ploughs through. The collateral is of no consequence to the actor. The injured lie broken and spiteful and decide to bring their truck to the fields...

Thankfully, I have no car yet.

The incoherence. I love it! I love it!!