In
persistence lies an inescapable truth, a circular hole swallowing up sentient minds then funneling out their ambitions into one singular purpose. This drive that carries us inevitably overtakes the initial intention of the matter. It lays in wait and manifests itself as an afterthought, curtailing any actual progress. To circumvent this fate one must free himself of desire, unburden his ego, and starve his id. Empty the caches of memory, flatten the unseen borders emplaced around you unwittingly. The prize is not at the top of the mountain, it is in the climb. We must reflect upon this in our every action. Never lose sight of a rogue ideal, it will double back on you, and sure as the sun sets, it will bite you on the ass. The moment you think you have it right is the very same moment you can be sure that you are wrong. DO LESS. Take for instance the common flea, waiting, fashioning a home for itself with in its humble surroundings. Consider his ways. This home is but a temporary keep. A few strands of carpeting, loose gravel and the like will do fine until it makes itself at home imbedded in your skin, and as your very life blood becomes its own it should think, "What a happy home I've made for myself". Moving on up. Progress, like a bird just past it's fledgling stage, falling out of the nest, and hoping it doesn't hit the ground before it gets the chance to build a nest of it's own someday. We all have these things in common with the flea and the bird. We all wait for our turn, we're all waiting for the house hold pet to wander along, lest we wait for the borax. Watching ever so eagerly out of the corner of our eyes for any preceived threat to come and try to take away our big chance. This drives us, we want the fear. We love a good enemy. It's only the ego that separates one from the other. The voice that tells you your blood is more important to you than it is to the flea. This voice is the only real enemy. The pride filled bolstering inside that says you deserve better, demands you take more. Fill your gullet, engorge yourself on the blood of the world 'til not a drop remains for any others. Make your home young flea, beat your wet wings. Heed the call of that voice that tells you it is you. Name your enemy, meet him with a smile. Remember, this is your blood, not his.
