Eye Master Bated

Wait ! This is completely different than what you think it is.

Not sure if I needed to preface this. I like to play on words,  and certainly this could get sticky, or tearful.

(Eye) A vision  (Master) having control over (Bated) great suspense.

(See, Merriam Webster is my friend, or as I call him, m-w dot com.)

Been in kind of a temporal funk, of late. Tired,  but not exhausted, or maybe, tired of being tired.

I’ll  let Harry Chapin explain.

“My grandfather was a painter. He died at age eighty-eight, he illustrated Robert Frost’s first two books of poetry and he was looking at me and he said,

‘Harry, there are two kinds of tired: there’s good-tired, and there’s bad-tired.’ He said, ‘Ironically enough, bad-tired can be a day that you won.

But you won other people’s battles, you lived other people’s days, other peoples agendas, other people’s dreams and when it was all over there was very little “you” in there, and when you hit the hay at night, somehow you toss and turn–you don’t settle easy.’

He said, ‘Good-tired, ironically enough, can be a day that you lost. But you don’t have to tell yourself, ’cause you knew you fought your battles, you chased your dreams, you lived your days, and when you hit the hay at night, you settle easy–you sleep the sleep of the just, and you can say “take me away.”‘

He said, ‘Harry, all my life I’ve painted. God, I would’ve loved to be more successful, but I painted and I painted, and I am good-tired and they can take me away.’

Now, if there is a process in your and my lives in the insecurity that we have about a prior life or an afterlife and God–I hope there is a God. If He is– if He does exist He’s got a rather weird sense of humor, however.

But let’s just– But if there’s a process that will allow us to live our days and will allow us that degree of equanimity towards the end, looking at that black, implaccable wall of death, to allow us that degree of peace, that degree of non-fear, I want in.”

-Harry Chapin

Yes, I’m avoiding what I am trying to get to. Typical me, the Prince of Procrastination.

Woke up “tired”, knowing I had more stuff to do than time allotted to get it all done in.

While trying to prioritize and focus, found myself standing in front of a mirror.  Stopped,  (Like I had time for that) for a quick soul search.

At first, I discovered what I’ve known all along, right in front of me, a shell of a human being.

An automaton with a bio – battery blood booster and pulmonary pumping parts to energize the broken bile brain.

Mr. Roboto in the flesh, as it were.

I’ve got a secret I’ve been hiding under my skin
My heart is human, my blood is boiling, my brain I.B.M.
So if you see me acting strangely, don’t be surprised
I’m just a man who needed someone, and somewhere to hide

To keep me alive, just keep me alive
Somewhere to hide, to keep me alive

I’m not a robot without emotions. I’m not what you see
I’ve come to help you with your problems, so we can be free
I’m not a hero, I’m not the saviour, forget what you know
I’m just a man whose circumstances went beyond his control.

Styx from “Kilroy was here.”

Pupil patience prevailed,  staring longer than expected, at this low point,  it just didn’t matter. Still searching. ….

C’mon,  something “has” to be in there.

Ever notice,  you can only look into one pupil at a time?  Yet,  when you switch to the other, it is imperceptible that your eyeballs move left or right.

Either by looking into someone’s eyes or your own in a mirror?  That is at least one thing I discovered.

Waiting,  waiting. …

Then without warning,  some liquid started to pool on the lower eyelids. Probably just had my eyes open for to long without blinking.

Or,  perhaps “woke” something up inside,  that has been very dormant for too long. I suspect it is, as Dr. Wayne Dyer has described it as “The microscopic dot” that “began” me.

Time elapsed while standing still,  it felt okay though.  Probably better revisit that microscopic dot, before it falls back into hibernation.

I think I’ll be okay, not sure how others will react if all of a sudden I start behaving “human” though.

This is one I’ll have to fix by myself. 5FM.

Some Rush Lyrics from Double Agent seemed to fit too.

On the edge of sleep,
I was drifting for half the night
Anxious and restless,
Pressed down by the darkness
Bound up and wound up so tight
So many decisions, a million revisions
Caught between darkness and light

Wilderness of mirrors
World of polished steel
Gears and iron chains
Turn the grinding wheel
I run between the shadows
Some are phantoms, some are real

On the edge of sleep,
I heard voices behind the door
The known and the nameless,
Familiar and faceless
My angels and my demons at war
Which one will lose – depends on what I choose
Or maybe which voice I ignore

Wilderness of mirrors
Streets of cold desire
My precious sense of honor
Just a shield of rusty wire
I hold against the chaos
And the cross of holy fire

Wilderness of mirrors
So easy to deceive
My precious sense of rightness
Is sometimes so naïve
So that which I imagine
Is that which I believe

On the edge of sleep, I awoke to a sun so bright
Rested and fearless, cheered by your nearness
I knew which direction was right
The case had been tried by the jury inside
The choice between darkness and light

As long as I was evoking Harry Chapin,

The following is a partial adaptation of Mr. Tanner that works too.

Mister Devlin was a driver, from a town in the West.
And of all the driving jobs around he’d made his the best.
But he also was a writer who thought while hauling loads.

He practiced rhyming while night driving,

and thought of how to post.

But writing was his life, it was not his livelihood,
And it made him feel so happy and it made him feel so good.
And he wrote from his heart and he wrote from his soul.
He did not know how well he wrote; It just made him whole.

 Songwriters: HARRY F. CHAPIN