There is a whole world out there. So here I am wondering when I can break free. But I’m just a dog. And I’m completely at the whim of my human. But you guys are only at the whim of… what? I would listen, if only I could understand.
Because from here, I see you’ve got the freedom I crave. And yet you humans spend a lot of time whining… so I’m thinking you wouldn’t have an answer anyhow.
Thoughts
I’m not sure what they are because I don’t really call them thoughts. They’re feelings, impressions, images… but for the grownups, those get all mixed with memories and all the stuff that’s happened and then all that gets put into these little boxes and then mostly everything lives in those boxes and then they just sort of rummage around to find the right box to fit any new thing into. I guess there’s lots of room for all these boxes, but sometimes a thing will come along and it doesn’t fit any box at all. So what do they do? They bury it? But then sometimes put way too much in a box, and it keeps popping out and causing trouble.
This is me, sometimes. A graffiti upside down Jumby on a castaway chair. Staring up at one of those bland milky gray skies, wondering what the point is. What brought me to this absurd piece of grass in this random stretch of an urban street?
We need metaphors to fathom and navigate this existence. This one suits my occasional pathos, or in this case, bathos. Yes I love a wild analogy, but maybe I need another one. And that’s where our creativity enters the scene. When struggling to wrap your head around life, around a moment that has a sad old metaphor attached to it, pause a minute. Think like a poet. Try a new one. Maybe you’ll head off to an altogether different day.