Overnight, the Big Dipper upended
itself. Early this morning, I found it
balancing on its handle atop a pine tree outside my back door.
I’m not worried.
The Dipper will slip down from the
tree and repeat.
Here is a real thing. There exists a fine line between taking an aspirin
to cure a headache and drilling a hole in your head to let the demons out.
Just to be safe, I hide my
drills. Sometimes, I have trouble
finding them when I need a hole in a board.
I’ve always wondered about some of the
more famous philosophers. Friedrich Nietzsche,
who said, “He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a
monster. And if you gaze for long into
an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”
Kierkegaard, who is quoted as professing, “My depression is the most
faithful mistress I have known.”
Philosophers have always danced along
the thinnest edge.
I have learned not to drill holes in
my head. I use power tools to literally “work”
my way through troubles. I choose
blueprints over long blue nights.
I build a house. A cabin.
Sometimes, a crooked table, which I immediately dismantle and burn so I
might begin again.
Imagine if Kierkegaard took up a
skill saw instead of existentialism.
Today, we might have Kierkegaard
chairs instead of thoughtful abstractions.
-- Mitchell
Hegman
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