JOSE DIAZ

A strong imagination can be a dangerous thing. It must be wielded with caution. There is a fine balance that must be maintained between dreams and reality. In dreams there are no limits. In reality, limits abound.

There are many people in my life that rely on me to be grounded concretely into reality. They look to me for guidance, stability, explanation, clarification, and wisdom. My intentions are always to never let them down. I set the bar high for myself and failure, though inevitable, is always a grating experience. I weigh the optimistic as evenly as I can with the pessimistic. Success and failure are destinations I always try to make full contemplations of. When I’m right, it feels good. When I’m wrong, well, you get the picture.

 The battle between reality and imagination is one I wage every day. Ideas come out of nowhere and struggle to shed their light into my thinking mind. I mentally lament the loss of what might feel like a great new idea. There is a silent graveyard in my mind of ideas I have forgotten due to reality constricting my thoughts for its own sake. Those hollow and unmarked places radiate nothing but nothingness and dire sadness.

At any given moment the battle-noise fades and the weapons of reality fall thru stoic echoes into silence. My imagination takes the queue and launches into the open on massive wings. It screams defiantly like a thunderbird in first flight. Synapses flood with chemicals and neurons fire off in bold cascades. My body struggles to keep up with the torrential outpour. My heart soars lightly and lithely. It’s fun to wallow in the storm of ideas! Time evaporates and forever shatters into infinity.

Reality is a staunch inevitability. Its cannons let loose undeniable salvos. The thunderbird of imagination takes the full brunt of massive broadsides. The entire hulk is stripped of feathers and mental acuity. The lifeless carcass spirals down poetically, and crashes into the sea. The realization settles in. It is not after all a thunderbird. It is a phoenix. Reality pours every barrel into the crash zone for full effect. Reality maintains its volleys as it always does, even after its aim goes blind. Imagination and dreams are lost in the din and roil of endless detonations. But, being what it is, it will rise again.

 If I am lucky enough, my hands will have etched into reality enough of the dreams to carry on with on some later, and much quieter day.