The Stalking Horse

The Stalking Horse

So, this phrase came to mind & I Googled it. “A concept to mount a challenge to a third party.” Sounds gobbledygook to me. I prefer my idea of a horse emerging from the mist, a moment ago only a sound of hooves hitting dry ground, vaguely menacing, altogether alerting…

I feel like I’m on some sliding board & when I reach bottom, the playground will be entirely changed. What was real will no longer be so. What was mine to do will have slipped from my shoulders, a forgotten coat of many colors, found by another & exclaimed over with joy.

I finally had a Human Design chart which I’ve carried around for at least a decade analyzed. I didn’t understand it & now have a nodding acquaintance to with a definition. This system is touted as one which gives you your entire life just beyond 3D – the coulda, woulda, shoulda’s of it all. It provides a panorama of where life dried up or watered down, a glimpse of roads not taken but still kind of available.

OH! This is what  happened! The upper area designating the head is unfinished – even after all these years, thoughts fleet on after touching down. But this is what’s made me who I am – a chronicler of life & times, a note-taker, an observer from the edges of the page, where it curls & wears out, where the ink runs down & off, where no tape can repair the fringe: paper quietly curls onto itself, any earth-shaking formulas of life faint & blurring. A new, white-write page emerges.

At first, I was dismayed. But in having no, or few “fixed thoughts,” I realize there’s a whole Universe to be fingered through & decided upon. All my decisions were windblown & changeable, all my relationships subject to abrupt endings…I pursued until I did no longer. Then I discovered I couldn’t even remember why I’d done that. Here I thought it was a flaw as I watched others cling to poor decisions & illogic in the face of proof. Hubris or humanity? What I now perceive as a flaw in them, I pursued earnestly & simply could not anchor into. And I tried.

I have no memories I much care to hold closely anymore, even the humorous ones.

I read years ago after the official business of life – school, kids, houses, relationships – are past tense, the looking glass becomes transparent & the future holds next steps: a Good Death. I am idly packing stuff into the suitcase of TakeAlong – an experience, an expression, a talent to preserve, for later study & development.

I let go of ideas & relationships like breadcrumbs in the forest thinking I’ll find my way back. But you & I know about what happens to those. My memories are devoured by dragons looking for gems to hoard & belched out aflame later on. I am a zephyr on the winds of change, savored for a moment – what’s that sweet-sweet smell? Then forgotten or bemused over as life moves on.

It’s too late or too early to get into Carol’s Theory of Life here. I only know that which it’s been for me. I watch friends stop along the way & become mired or fixed in expectations not coming into being. I tug a bit, “Come on,” I say, “Just look at it this way! See how easy it is to change?”  But their heads are full. Their Stalking Horses have walked into the barn & await grooming.

“Bye,” I say over my shoulder, pursuing the next thought eagerly. Time to study something else. Time to poke around in this corner & see what’s in the boxes. Time to unpack the unfamiliar, the divine, & explore the next life when I won’t be this corporeal.

What will it be like to be air? Nothing holds onto this me, it could be a ton of fun to just fly off! I’m onto the Next Best Thing. “Move along,” as they say, “nothing to see here.”