Aimless
I've never been any thing. I have always been many things. This has caused rifts between my family and friends at times... not being decisive enough to be some thing that subscribes to one path and one path only.This fluidity is a path within itself, I guess, but not one that would be highly recommended. How can I explain 'the path of no path' to someone and make it sound like a good path to be on? Would you tell a friend to follow such and such a path that seemingly leads to no specific place? I doubt many would listen to such nonsense (that's what they'd think).
Maybe my path is the non-sense path. I like the sound of that today. It is filled with the unknown... a path that leads to - who knows where? Just traveling... simply going to where instinct tells me to go. Aimless? I've traveled aimlessly for years, but even the aimless path is a path. I've learned much about my Self while on the journey of aimlessness. Not all of it good, but certainly not all of it bad... somewhere in the middle.
Is the aimless path the middle ground that my instinct follows? Have I asked myself that question more than once. I always have gotten different sides of the answers, again ranging from the illusory good to bad ... but never "Stop!"
I spent four years in the U.S. Navy, 1965 - 1969. After bootcamp I was promoted, like everyone else, to Seaman Apprentice (E-2), a rookie. I knew from my days at bootcamp that I had gotten into something that was not for me. Being a sailor didn’t fit me. But I had signed a contract with Uncle Sam and I intended to fulfill my promise for four years. I never took a test to upgrade my rank. I remained a Seaman Apprentice for my entire four year stint. I chose to do so and paid the consequences. My first 2 years I was stationed on Guam and became a disc jockey for Armed Forces Radio. It was a fluke... a lucky stroke. I was doing something I enjoyed for awhile - playing and discovering different types of music. But I had no desire to be a DJ as a profession.
My next assignment was on an aircraft carrier. As a Seaman Apprentice all the shit duty came my way along with my regular jobs. Hell, it was only two more years... and it offered me my own private times, like when I had to clean the head ... I got to lock up the restroom and have some quiet time reading books in between swabbing the decks and polishing brass.
I was in San Francisco in 1967. My ship was home ported in Oakland. A magical time for someone like me (and thousands of others for their own reasons). The Flower Children in full bloom coming from all parts of the globe to experience the essences of the garden. The stereotypes of what became known as hippies were rampant, usually focused on the long hair, drugs and rock 'n roll... often about all the 'free sex' and the unbathed pilgrims hitchhiking from and to wherever they wanted. Still being in the Navy prevented me from embracing much of any semblance of that lifestyle, but I returned after my discharge in 1969.
I was unable to live out the media’s stereotypes of what these hippies were. I enjoyed a daily bath. I didn't use any drugs but pot and other psychedelics, and even those for the most part were infrequent.... not necessarily the weed, for that was as common as beer - passing a joint was a symbol of giving/receiving, no matter if they were strangers or not. But I was never what a hippie was supposed to be... even that ideal of freedom and love was too weird for me. I just went in and out of that world, too... the aimless path.
But upon each journey I learned more of the world and more of myself. I've found it difficult to adhere to any particular 'way', whether it be a job description, a familial expectation or any other commitment to being some thing or somebody. I have this automatic response to shrug it off if I feel myself becoming some thing that doesn't fit me... and very little, as I've found out thru my years, fits me comfortably.
I've been a purchasing agent for a large corporation. I've been a warehouseman. I've been a manager for a moving business. I've done petty shit to bring in a few extra dollars... but I could never fit the description of any of it. I could not mold myself into a job. I could not fit into any sort of suit that identified me with a career. I have been lucky enough to never have had a job that required me to punch a clock. I've never had a desire to have a career or be a professional.
This rejection of whatever has driven me to even reject music. I have enjoyed music on practically every level, every taste, every genre... because I could not simply accept one style. If I find myself listening to too much new age , I have a reflex that pukes out new age and I seek out something else, maybe country, maybe rock or jazz... but never have I stuck with one genre as being me. I could never identify completely with one musical path. Even in art I have rejected the norm... I tried in my teen years to take art classes and immediately rejected the instructor's guidance - he was completely irrelevant. In college I could not sit in those mandatory classes and listen to the nonsense coming out of professors that I had felt should be wise people and not robots spewing out facts and figures that were in certain books deemed necessary to complete this class . I dropped out of college and hit the road, but I also rejected being a bum.
I write, but I never see myself as a writer... the stereotypical writer tucked away behind walls, busy at his desk writing away furiously to meet deadlines from his publisher, hoping that this latest piece will sell.
I don't see myself as any thing. Careers don't fit into my life. If I had to paint pictures that suited the masses, using colors that matched sofas, and images that embraced 'cuteness' I would leave my pallet and wander aimlessly down further paths... absorbing what I see and experience. But for what?
What is the purpose of any journey? To simply journey? To take in Life and what? What the hell is it all about? Do I (we) need to have to be some thing?
I don't consider myself to be any thing, any particular thing or person other than my Self. Is that not enough? I've asked that one a thousand times, believe me. Is it not enough that I am Cecil B. Lee , human, husband and friend of my mate, father of two terrific boys,? I have no choice in my aimlessness but to remain me and whatever it is that concludes will be all that I was.
___________
i am a visitor upon this earth
that has no purpose
but to celebrate life
and live in awe of the mysteries
that surround me daily
i attempt to unravel the veils
that envelope this world
in hopes of receiving the
love that pulsates eternally
behind all that derives purpose
from that which it came
in silence i hear whispers
in languages not yet deciphered
the name of all that is without matter
and form knowing that one is
beyond duality -
the final target
in sight of
the third eye
__________
i am a visitor upon this earth
that has no purpose
but to celebrate life
and live in awe of the mysteries
that surround me daily
i attempt to unravel the veils
that envelope this world
in hopes of receiving the
love that pulsates eternally
behind all that derives purpose
from that which it came
in silence i hear whispers
in languages not yet deciphered
the name of all that is without matter
and form knowing that one is
beyond duality -
the final target
in sight of
the third eye
__________
cecil
16 march 2008
[originally written 06 june 2004]
otHERwoRldLEE gOOds
[booth shots]
[booth shots]
note: link to SooZen's blog - http://soozenlee.blogspot.com/
goals are like periods on the page. a brief catch of breath before moving forward to the next moment's moment. 
