Visitor to Earth

Free use photo from Pixabay.com

By Mike Johnson

I donít live here.
Iím just visiting.

No matter where I am or who Iím with, Iím on vacation.
This leaves me safely detached from irritants, yet free to embrace anything pleasant.

I can mingle with the herd but Iím no member.
Iím not invested enough to succumb to peer pressure.
When others turn right, Iím free to turn left.
And usually do.

I can feel a vibe. I can read a room. Iím situationally aware.
This keeps me from being trapped.
While others are physically jammed into the orchestra pit, Iím mentally in the balcony.
Perspective and detachment let me see whatís coming far before others.

I enjoy living with this freedom.

If some bowtied guy buttonholes me about geometry at a party, Iím hearing his words but looking for his angle.
I can do both at once.
If heís trying to jam his square peg into my round hole, Iím outta there.

Iím just a visitor.

Earth life is odd, fascinating, deranged, invigorating, brutal and beautiful.
Itís a mishmash of random experience, swirling over us all, created unconsciously by the masses who have no idea theyíre the creator.

Like wet paint tossed into a fan, itís impossible to walk in humanity without getting splashed.

So itís best to keep your car keys in hand, ready for a quick escape if the lacquer gets too thick.

A return to solitude, with my own creations, is the closest I ever get to a permanent home on earth.
But even then, I know itís all temporary.

Iím just a visitor.

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