I have written about this before, many times in fact, but still the story comes back and demands to be told. It is a good story.
It happened when I sat in a club, a rock club to be precise, all by myself at a table, with a beer for company. I waited for friends to arrive. I was thinking.
How did I come to think about this surrounded by lights filtered through cigaret smoke, deafened by blaring rock and poked now and them by somebody’s studs or army boots, I do not remember. I thought about the way. The right way. The only way.
“It is straight and narrow, they say” I thought “so how do I find it? How do I know I walk it? How do I know I don’t?” I pondered and the questions faded away and melted into the smoky shadows.
“There is no way. There is no one way.”
In the absence of questions the answer became quite clear: there is no one way, neither narrow nor wide, neither right nor wrong. There is me, and I choose.
That was a significant thing for me to know right there, in that club, at that time. I was about to finish college, I was about to go out into the world and make a life for myself and it was very important for me to know that whatever I choose, whichever direction I’ll walk, it will be the right direction, it will be the right choice.
Because it will be mine.
