There are two mes out there. There is the me that drips with sweat. His skin burns red. His eyes sting and squint. His arms push those wheels non-stop with such force from morning to night each day. His will is broken. He begs me to give up with each push of his trembling arms. He listens to his Mother when she tells hims that no one cares. He thinks of people like Rick Hansen that apparently pushed his wheelchair for nearly forty thousand km and he wonders how, since he works as hard as anyone could and is only able to push out no more than fifty km per day. This me gets angry at the passing trucks as they veer over the white line into my space. He gets weak, tired, and sore. He doesnt want to go on anymore. Then there is the other me. His head is up in the clouds. He doesnt get thirsty, hungry, or tired. He floats up around the tree canopy, mimicking bird songs. He surfs down mountainsides, slaloming mountain sheep. He picks berries with blacks and browns, and has stare-offs with grizzlies. He jostles in the Fraser as fiery-red as the mighty salmon spawning there. He knows everyone cares. He feels everyones heart beat. He is so filled with love that he knows everyone will find it a contagion. He looks down on the other me as he floats ever-higher above that corporeal me with a snicker and grin. He is able to mock the bodily me, because he knows that is not me. I am the one that flies. I am the one that loves and laughs. I am not constrained by the chains that bind my corporeal self. I am not hindered by his contempt for the rest of the world letting me do this alone. He will not call Rick Hansen right now on the telephone to say, whats up with that? He will not call the media and ask why the hell they are ignoring what I do. He will not wonder why telling the truth is my biggest handicap. I am the one that can remove myself from my pain. I am the one that can step out of my body and watch it whimper. I am the one that will be smiling in pain as I do no less that 33 km a day for the next 25 days, not including today. I am 33 km from McBride. I will be there this evening. Then on to the sea. This is me. The fact that I can remove myself from myself shows that that is not the real me. The real me isnt typing - he is a feeling and thinking being. I can think about the emotions that have guided us all up to now. I can pull out my phone and ask it a question if I get confused. So that is what I do - I find the fantasy in rationality. Ill be pushing down the road. But dont look there to see me. I will be up in the top of a tree - in the canopy, sliding down a snow-covered peak, and somewhere new with each day of the week. You see, I am not going to let it bother me that no one seems to care - that no one is there. I am not going let the mean people hurt my feelings. Remember, my head is in the clouds. I am not going to let people laugh at me when I say that I am going to change this world. I am just going to. I am going to just keep dreaming and let my body do all the work. Yall can join me, if you like - it is fun up here.
Posted on: Sun, 24 Aug 2014 16:42:36 +0000
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