Wrong Turn Goes Right

Where am I? What seemed like ages ago, I felt a pull in the guise of a voice, perhaps in the smallest whisper, one only heard in the rustle of my hair in a breeze, an invitation to GO, pulling me towards my car. “Get in and drive”. Earlier, I had been sitting in my computer room, wasting time in front of the computer. I was on Facebook, Myspace, blogspot.com, Twittering my time in bits and bytes. Just wasting time, and ignoring the want of something more. The sun had been blocked by clouds for most of the morning, so when I saw the windows of this place I call home light up in the orange glow that suggests a warm day outside; the time to stop ignoring and start doing had finally arrived. But I protested a bit. Just a little bit. I was hungry. I had already had two cups of coffee but no food. The urge to fill my stomach overwhelmed the urge to get out, but once that need was filled, the call of escape started tapping me on the shoulder once again.

I didn’t know where I was going. I just got into my car and sat there for a while. I took inventory of what I had gathered for the excursion: water and Dr. Pepper, cell phone, camera. I couldn’t think of anything else I needed. Maybe except for a travel partner, someone to sit in the empty seat next to me, someone to share an afternoon drive to nowhere…someone who possibly had longer hair than I and a whole lot better looking…but I had to be content with just the imagination of that someone. With that, I turned the key and started the journey.

It is country out here. Country as cows and mules and chickens and porch dogs. Country as clean air, John Deere, Pabst Blue Ribbon, and buckshot. Due east, mountains rise above the horizon, misty blue mounds that disappear from sight when the road dips, looms into view when it rises. To the north, lies Cleveland. To the south; Dalton. To the west; Chattanooga. I headed east. Of course, I couldn’t go east as the birds fly. No roads go due east from here. They meander in all directions, surely meant to disorient the unwary wanderer, which I seem to be one of. I keep meaning to put a map in the car, or better yet, get online and map the roads that lead to the mountains from my house, but as of today, I had done neither one. I just decided that if I could see the mountains in front of me, I was headed in the right direction.

I can’t remember at what point I forgot to remember if that was a left or a right at that last intersection. I think that I distinctly remember saying that it didn’t matter, that all these roads lead to a major road somewhere, certainly goes to somewhere familiar, or at least familiar enough to find my way. But here in front of me is a fork in the road. I can’t see the mountains that have been peeping above the tree line, so that clue isn’t working for me at the moment. Up ahead is a church with a cemetery. I’ve always liked roaming through cemeteries. There’s finality in a graveyard. It is the one place that everyone will visit one day, not just for the day, but for a long, long time. Walking around in one is sobering. Death is neither picky nor discriminate. We all are welcome there!

But I don’t stop at the church with the graveyard. I keep on. I take a road that goes right (right seems right to me) and continue on. I pass houses, some with the look of antiquity (faded wood porches that wrap around the house…love those old houses), others that look only a few years old. Some houses even stay true to the “in disrepair, cars on blocks, appliances in the front yard (a washing machine flower pot…why didn’t I think of that?), and a yard gone fallow. Even though I don’t know where I’m going, I’m not lost at the moment; I’m just misplaced. Faith in getting somewhere is what keeps me going. Knowing that I’ll end up just where I’m going keeps me going further. The mountains are big enough that sooner or later, they will come back into sight and I will know exactly where I am and which way I should go.

If there was someone to ask for direction, I would do it. I’m not above admitting that I am wrong, lost, or going in the totally wrong direction. I’m not usually the person who just goes and goes on a whim, just thinking that I will find my own way. I like direction. But I’m stepping out here, going into territory unknown, although still familiar, and not worrying or caring one way or the other. What will be, will be. I’ve found myself doing that more and more lately, whether I like it or not.

I like Stephen King. I have for a long time now. His books have a way of pulling me in to the world within the writings, almost making me a character alongside those in the book. I guess any book can do that, but I’m talking about my favorite author here, so I’m going with that. I admit that sometimes he takes up too much time beating around the bush, taking forever to get to the point where the action starts, building up characters and timelines almost to the point of “get to the point already”. I’m about to start reading the 7th and last book of his “Dark Tower” series. Short synopsis: The Gunslinger, Roland, and his three companions (his “ka-tet”) are getting closer and closer to the Dark Tower and the secret that lies therein. There are many more worlds than our own, each one held by a Beam radiating from this Tower, and they are being broken one by one by workers loyal to “The Crimson King”. When the last Beam is broken, all worlds will fall into darkness, and be ruled by the Red Eye of the Crimson King…not a good thing. Roland is a believer in “Ka”, which in our world can also be called “Karma”. Ka decides that what will be, will be. Ka is what guides the bullet from his gun. Hell, Ka is what draws his gun. Even more so, Ka is what gives him a reason to shoot in the first place. “If Ka wills…”

I’m not too sure I like being subjected to Ka, Karma, or Destiny. I would like to think that I am in control. After all, I am the one choosing which way I will go, whether it is left (bad choice?) or right (good choice?) or just staying the course and keep on going forward. If where I end up is left up to Ka, then what’s the point in making any decision for right or for wrong? Or what’s the point of making any decision at all, for that matter? If I’m destined for failure, why should I try to succeed? If I’m destined to succeed, then all these failures are for what purpose? To show me what it is like to fail just so that I can have something to look back on once I’m at the top of The Tower? To me, to believe that is to have a “do-nothing” attitude. Hey…then I must be a believer in Karma, to some extent. I have been accused of just that before. I just “let things happen”.

Man, I’m getting confused here. Things happen for a very good reason. Which way is that going? If things just happen, then did I have a part in it? I’m sure I did…or do. And if I did have a part in it, then wouldn’t I have knowledge of what the reasoning behind it all was? I sure don’t. I haven’t and I’m not sure I ever will. At least it seems like I never will. Something else I’ve heard; “Where you are at this time and place is exactly where you are supposed to be”. That’s another thing that eats at me. I believe that and at the same time, I want proof that it is where I’m supposed to be. And I want to know if where I’m supposed to be is where I want to be, or if that will lead me to where I want to end up. I have the end result (the mountains, my happiness, my security) in my mind as my destination, and by golly, I’m going to get there. Ka be damned. Ka be praised.

Taking a left, taking a right, going straight ahead…It’s a choice I choose to make, even if the choice is the one that I was going to make all along, according to Destiny, whether I am conscious of that or not. Driving and going, going and driving...but, wait…I just now realized something. I’ve been driving and driving and getting lost and finding my way and getting lost again. I’ve passed time and I’ve passed places familiar and foreign. But really, you know what? I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m holding my head in my hands and thinking and straining and draining my brain…and I’m still in my driveway.

I head for the mountains.