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XTimes 1.15-TheCall

Ever since roosters started crowing in threes, denial has been the first stage of acceptance. Each adventure worthy of the label begins with a good, old-fashioned denial of the call, for without rejecting the premise, no real adventure could ever ensue. Willing volunteers need not apply. Conscripts must go AWOL. True adventure requires denial.

The premise always proves faulty; there are no true pretenses, only false ones. Questioning any premise makes logical sense even if it renders the questioner into a huge pain in the butt. Small misconceptions explode adventure. Questioning premise produces the preconditions necessary for relationship, and adventuring is always a relational experience, even if it seems like it’s just a transaction involving nobody but me, myself, and I.

”Wake up,” the rooster crows, while I bury my head beneath another pillow and roll over, denying the promise of dawn. Of course it’s way too early, the worms haven’t even mustered for any early bird to catch. Adventuring starts in the dark with dawn still dreaming, stars positioned curiously, disoriented. Orienting’s for later, I stumble off in the inevitably wrong direction, certain this one’s just a trial run until it turns into a trial. Then I employ my denial.

And the rooster crows again. By then, I’m already missing my friends, my routine, my sacred solitude. Out in the world I tried so hard to hide from for so very long, I’ll miss breakfast today. Lunch, too. I will be lost until I’m found, with found a fading memory. I could be lost until I’m lost again, again, and again. This is adventuring.

The rooster crows at sunset, too, harkening the deepening gloom. There will be no bedroom tonight; no pillow to muffle the call, no covers to buffer the chill. Exhaustion will steal my dreaming and sleep will fret away most of the darkness before she ever arrives. No coffee will awaken me. Stale bread will welcome my day.

The first days out will test my dedication and I can always turn around and return home, but nothing will stop the rooster crowing as long as denial contends. Later, maybe much later, denial might lose his sway. One day the adventuring might well become the well-established way. Forward, then, will be my call, rooster far behind. There will be no turning backwards then, whatever I might find.

©2013 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

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