Losing Track

Lights In the Distance. . .

Walks’ Outdate – 54 Days and Counting

By Steven Maisenbacher

Walks On The Grass

In retrospect, as I go back thru some of the things I have posted, I seem to have fallen off the track on what my whole intent was. In the beginning it was to be more lighthearted and whimsical, with things I have discovered about myself thru the Creator’s love and care for me. Once I applied myself to those same spiritual teachings and the ways of the whole belief system, I began to become a better man, and someone I was proud to see when I looked in the mirror and not the reflection of the monster I had become thru my addictions, selfish behaviors and lawlessness – all the things that led me to the brick wall I eventually hit. It just didn’t kill me, so me being somewhat intelligent, I finally got the message. BAM!!! Like a light went on, “Hey, knucklehead. You are your own worst enemy.” So at that point I was able to gain the positive transformations that allowed me to grow.

But that’s really not what I want to say here, I want to get back to this illumination I have had about the past few postings. See, it’s crazy in that I have more hope now than ever for a bright future, for my release, for the adventure that “doing it right” will inevitably be. But I have allowed the conditions of my confinement to creep back in and control the conditions of my continuance in my journey, the thoughtful preparation, the sincere plans and dreams I have formed and am everyday forming.  I don’t want my story to read like that.

See I don’t really care about the lockdown per se; it’s really just a minor annoyance to me at this point in my incarceration, like a gnat buzzing around trying to irritate me, and it would appear to be successful to the point of affecting me mentally, but then I snap back out of it and chuckle. Yeah, that’s right, I said chuckle, to myself.  Man after all these miles, all the wars, all the inner turmoil and changes I have undergone, to let the little inconvenience of “The Bureau’s” silliness bother me, well, that’s no different than me being my own worst enemy all over again.

So I ain’t gonna let that happen and I am not going to show that to you anymore. I don’t want to have this wonderful Journey of the Spirit turned into a rant at my keepers. Here’s why. I am more than my confinement, I am the product of my own journey, not the product of the place where all these changes have come to be. Does this make sense? I mean if I let the silliness that they get up to in here just to keep us off balance and unable to find tranquility succeed, then I let this prison become the dictator in my self-rehabilitation. But if I just go about my journey and from time to time remark on the actions of my keepers for you but refuse to let them get to my peace of mind then it’s all good. I can give you a better idea of what prison life is like, but I am not dwelling on the negative forces at work around me and against me. If I just keep pushing on and following the path that I have forged, it’s all good.

My exit from here gets closer every day; I won’t trip on anything but my soon to be freedom and halfway house date. Man that trip is gonna be enough for me to deal with as it is, without letting the silly little games of my keepers invade my space. I’ve got better things to concentrate on and to talk with you about than whatever these buffoons are up to. So from time to time I will probably throw a gripe out there, especially if it’s something so monumentally stupid that I just have to comment, but no more rants.

I have everything I’m going to need to make it: First, the Creator’s love for me and the love of some very true and dear friends, all who have my back. I would never want to let down or disappoint those who love and support me, so what else should matter? or could? Even more than anything else, I have the chance to get out and get it right, do the things I have planned and dreamed of, and just enjoy what life now offers me, definitely not losing track of my blessings.

Losing Track

the need to go was crystal clear,
so i closed my eyes and lengthened my stride,
to where i do not know.

are we there yet?

i said it before, so i’ll say it again,
when you think too hard you don’t go far,
to where you are or even when.

are we there yet?

well i thought i'd arrived kinda sorta alive,
but a bit none the worse for the wear,
wasn’t sure but almost positive i was somewhere.

are we there yet?

pay attention to anything but this,
actually i was looking for total and complete bliss, 
but i tripped and i stumbled and somehow lost track..

but now i’m back, yea, we’re there yet....

© Steven Maisenbacher June 17, 2022

Published by Sings Many Songs

I'm Edna Peirce Dixon, an 80-something child of the great depression and WWII. Throughout my life I have been a seeker, an outsider, never quite belonging anywhere, still always looking through cracks in the fences of life, questioning, challenging, learning, trying to make sense of the world and its conventions. An R.N. by profession, I'm mostly a lifelong student with a love of writing and interests in history and genealogy. In my golden years some unexpected things happened that led me down unfamiliar paths with new challenges, opportunities and lessons to learn. This became the magic elixir that keeps me seeking, keeps me growing, keeps me alive.

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