Millstone
With apologies to Forrest Gump, milestones are as milestones do; says the Dervish.
We can make of anything a milestone as much as we can make of anything a millstone. We can celebrate the greatest achievements as easily as we can the smallest steps we’ve taken towards manifesting. Maybe if we spent more time celebrating our failures, we might be happier, fuller, more whole people. For progress and Life are not linear. This we know. It is a circle; a messy half-formed circle with errant squiggles, random turns and even sometimes, abrupt dead ends. While we see birth as a start and death as an end, they are both means, not the end in themselves. Birth is just the first day of death. Death is the first day of those left behind counting off how long your human form has been gone. So while you have exited the stage in form, the residual of your being remains snuggled up with the living, counting off the hours, days and years you’ve been away from them. Now think on how the expectation of birth is counted off once pregnancy is known and confirmed. The towering and quiet expectations of the arrival of a being in form human. Life itself visiting and then taking a dump in your hands. Burping over your shirt front. Falling asleep in your arms, leading you by the hand to terrify chickens, looking up to you when floundering in a rushing stream, falling apart when they stand beside your coffin. So in that sense neither birth nor death are much different.
Are you still there? she asks
Aweh, I am even if it feels like my residual is already departing from my form; I reply.
Her laughter tinkles through the ether and gently calls my residual back to my form.
Are you still as bothered by celebrating a milestone? Manifesting what you have quietly held inside you, kept hidden, even from yourself while you were busy with making a living in this world disorder?
No, not as fussed about it now, thank you; I reply.
Good. What is manifest is what matters. This is the only proof of Life in your hands, in word and deed, in your control. Pause and mark the moment by all means. Stop and luxuriate in seeking, finding and making congruence in thought, word and deed your best buddy. And then, as our large and talented mutual friend reminds us; a chef no matter how many awards they might have, is only ever as good as the last dish they put on the table.
Milestone noted, now get back to work my dear fellow traveller.
Millstone is a marker on this writing journey, thank you dearest readers for being along on this ride.
© Jesh Baker for Oppi Stoep 2024, All Rights Reserved
