[This is a piece I wrote for an old blog I had some years ago. I hope you enjoy it.]
We see them come
We see them go
Some are fast
And some are slow.
Some are high and some are low.
Not one of them is like another
Don't ask us why
Go ask your mother.
- "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish"
Dr. Seuss
It's not easy being a fish. It's even harder being two of them.
I often find myself torn between dual natures; emotional drives and logical thinking, intuition and fact. My brain and my heart are rarely in agreement on anything. I feel something, and I think another. And too often I choose the wrong voice to follow; either I let my heart lead, and all sorts of calamity befalls me, or I do what I consider the 'sensible' thing and end up looking like an insensitive fool.
I find myself resentful of others' good fortunes. I see plenty of insensitive, self-centered people with nice homes, nice cars, nice mates, and I often wonder if, were I to become that shallow, if I could procure some of this apparent wealth for myself. I've gotten to the point where I almost think it's a rule: the more plastic and shallow you are, the more toys you get to play with.
Then I think of the fortunes I have had. I have been lucky in ways that would make good comic-book plotlines; to have missed various forms of death because of accident or foolish decisions, not to be homeless because of people who helped me when I was down, not to be in prison for some of the irresponsible actions of my youth, and lucky not to be in a mental ward for the stresses I've lived through.
Each and every one of these 'windfalls' were because of what I call "luck", but when I think about it, it wasn't luck. It's not random. It's as if some force, some exterior motivation, has decreed I must meet a destiny, and everything that could happen to prevent me from reaching that destiny is, somehow, delayed or deflected. I should be in complete ruin. I should be dead. I should be mindless, insane, or at the very least, rendered persona non grata. It is as if the world itself will not allow these finalities to occur; it's never been because of my own intentional acts that I have missed my chance at oblivion. I leap from the chopping block, not because the axe falls, but because some unrelated event persuades me to do so. Only afterwards I do look back to see the blade strike the wood, and realize this 'luck' has, once again, saved me from whatever would permanently postpone the next disaster.
So, if I'm not to be dealt the final losing hand, why do I keep getting tossed back into the game? It's like being suckered at poker; the dealer knows I'll eventually lose my shirt, but he'll let me keep winning occasionally, just enough to stay my interest in leaving the table. Why do I enter into relationships, knowing this other person I've learned to trust is only going to break my heart? Why do I struggle to make ends meet, when I know something waits to take away whatever I've managed to gain? Why is it that, when death or insanity rears it's head, the final lasting relief is spared my tired and aching insides - leaving me whole, and wholly miserable?
I do have intuition. In almost every case, it is this which has stayed the final blow; something inside me says 'go now' or 'do this' or 'stay put'. And if I don't ask questions, I will walk out of the flames unscathed every time - but whatever's left burning is guaranteed to be mine. I have walked away from disastrous relationships before complete ruin befell me, dangerous environments before accidents happen to others, and life situations that would have placed me into inescapable destitution and despair. But in the process, I lose everything else; my home, my loves, my hopes for something better. If I run, I run 'away', never 'to'. If I run, I never know where the destination is; I just 'know' not to be where I am any longer.
Thus my duality perplexes and taunts me. My brain says 'look, this is a good thing' and my heart says 'don't, you couldn't live with yourself'. Or my heart says 'this is just great, a happy thing is happening' and my brain says 'you have GOT to be kidding, you can do better than this'. Each time I listen to my brain, I gain something in the world - a mate, a lifestyle, a series of things and resources - only to lose it later down the road when my intuition cries for me to leave it behind. If I listen to my heart, I will find happiness - but my brain is eventually called in to take care of some issue or circumstance that my heart couldn't possibly deal with, and atrocity is sure to be hot on it's heels.
One fish wants to strive upstream, to achieve and attain and conquer and rule; the other wishes to float, effortlessly, without care about advancement in physical or emotional circumstances. One must work to pull the weight of the other with it; the other is constantly yanked in a direction life doesn't seem to want to take it. They are tied together, inseparable and unyielding to one another. There is no teamwork, there is no unity. And between the swimmer and the floater, I go no where. I am stagnant while the stream flows merrily by without me.
I am left wishing for the Angler and His Net, or at the very least, a good sharp pair of scissors. Oh, that I could only be ONE fish!
