The Fringe Element of Genius

Genius is the real Breakaway Civilization. It’s not the place where the rubber meets the road, it’s the place where the tires leave it, fold up under the vehicle and you hear that Star Trek sound track as this fades into a streak of meteor. I never liked that piece of music. I remember once reading how someone thought “boldly go” was the name of the destination streaked to. I didn’t understand how such a cool show could have such a poor scant of music as a theme.

I digress.

Genius is the point of the lever where the world turns, tips, tilts. It is a scream in the psyche as an idea takes off or lands in the same nanosecond. It’s where nothing really matters besides being a human at the top of your game & realizing everyone else really IS following behind, dragging little red wheely suitcases. It’s an old golf joke – “hit the ball, drag Charlie.” And the sound track behind you is the one you associate with the monster coming closer, the limp-gimp of a simpering squeaky wheel sounding the inevitable.

I am ready for change. It comes upon me suddenly, does change. It takes a breath that won’t release & chokes off the chance for future air. It tunnels vision, limits thinking until let go. It demands every scintilla of attention in an arc of trajectory that sucks the body after – grabbing mind & heart first. The rest must somehow catch up, blurring into elasticity, some cartoon of impossible Gumby proportions. It’s unexpected (to say the least). It sometimes never does reunite into a single being & part of me is left behind forever, a note hanging, an echo from a room away. The suspense is excrutiating. The relief of the end goal divine.

I am finished with this job. It served me for a year. I helped it get on its feet, patted its little behind, tickled its curly scalp & now, with it barely standing, I realize I can take no more. It’s a job where they consciously reject change, deleting the better they can do to serve in favor for what has already proven trite. It scales down thinking & smashes any attempts to improve with sure, strong strokes like pummeling bread dough.

I don’t have to fit any mold any more. I can wipe the webs from my face, I’ve made it through the darkling forest & into a clearing where nothing shows beyond the sky. This is the place where wings dance & possibility bubbles into its opposite number.

I will watch them shrink into a distance as they fight hard to maintain small rather than mainline growth. When I move into this grace where the limitless opens a side to the ship’s skin, I will walk through & claim my own wild ride, turning in that ticket of a year in seatbelts for one deep breath.

I will never exhale!