Fly

In two days I’ll address a small hall of people. 

I’m representing my graduating class and it hits me how much more education I need. “The boy needs structure!” yells my stepfather from the past. Without academics, I am just gel without a mold—more movement than substance. The after-semester lull leading up to this weekend’s commencement has been very grating.

It’s the good old times, but you know that while you’re having them because it’s just too good to be true. So many books, so much conversation. It’s about the general curriculum of all of life. Always graduating, always in school. Did you know the average four year old asks four hundred and thirty-seven questions a day? The release of a question, the seeking of an answer, the intake of solution, and the processing of experience all keep the movement youthful, and substantial.  This is how gel creates a mold.

I joined a long form improvisation class and it teaches me lessons about how to live. I am told to, ‘Follow my fear,’ and that I want to, ‘be a mirror for my partner, not make them look like a fool.’ That old phrase, ‘I am who I am’ comes to mind, and the ‘I’ is such a fluid definition. This is how gel breaks the mold.

I have to meditate again. I can hear the madman laughing.