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White
Ash
- Ridgely Goldsborough
The face in the mirror stared back at me with a tired, withered look. I guess you couldn’t even call it a stare, more like a dull gaze, a blank, disparate set of pupils that sought clarity in the midst of a dense, hovering fog.
“Dang,” I thought to myself. “It’s that bad.”
I felt my hand run the fingers up the bridge of my nose and across the eyebrows, a slow, unhurried motion that spoke volumes – the pinch of the bridge, the rub of the eyes, the frown, the sigh.
“Jeeze,” I said out loud. “Can’t keep this up much longer.”
Run, run, run.
Push, push, push.
Massive energy pouring and driving.
Can we cross the finish line?
In a staggered haze, the price seemed awfully high.
Fall into bed.
Pass out.
Wake up in awe at the seven hours that disappeared in a flash.
Start over.
Another day, another shot at the grail.
Can I dig a little deeper?
Far away, my family rests.
I miss them, in that very real way that gnaws at my gut like an endless hunger pang that never wanes.
I hold them in my mind’s eye and in my prayers as once again I put on my game face.
Hit the mat.
Do the dance.
Play all out.
I hear the voices and messages of those who came before me and won.
It was never suppose to be easy.
Don’t cheapen it.
Still, the weariness allows doubt to creep in and take hold like a thin sheet of ice, chilling, stifling.
Take a nap.
Drink a coffee.
Do something.
Big game tonight.
How many of us come so close to the checkered flag yet run out of gas one final burst from celebration?
How many of us play casual, expect gifts and concessions from the universe without first putting in the sweat and toil?
How many of us cry tears of angst and despair in self-indulgent bouts of pain instead of grabbing that terror by the reins and riding it hard, pushing the envelope, leaving the safe shores behind?
Oh.
You just want to let life unfold.
You’d rather relax into it, see what the day brings, take it moment by moment.
Sure. You have that right.
Time and a place for everything.
I enjoy a lazy afternoon, fluid space that passes like a slow, muddy Southern river, hot, sticky, with a molasses energy that infects the soul.
Not today though.
It’s game day and I’m a gamer.
Take a deep breath.
Draw in the strength of the ages.
Pull from the champions of the past, the ones that broke the path and busted the paradigms and proved that the impossible simply demands a little more.
Go deep.
Dig.
Reach.
Feel the source churn.
Stoke the fire.
Watch the corners of the lips turn up in a quiet, Knowing smile.
Wink.
Turn.
Walk out the door.
Showtime.
That’s A View From The Ridge…
www.aviewfromtheridge.com
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Ridgely began scribbling as soon as his fingers could curl around a pen. So began a love affair, interrupted periodically by schooling, business and any number of self-initiated distractions to mask the fear of pursuing his childhood dream-to be a writer.
The journey took him through Law School, a number of private companies, going public, a large merger and back to his desk, a computer with a keyboard and the daily challenge of following the dream.
Along the way, Ridgely founded and/or acted as publisher for Network Marketing Lifestyles magazine, Domain Street magazine and the Upline Journal along with dozens of books, audio and video materials. He writes several books per year, in addition to The Daily Column.
Ridgely holds an undergraduate degree from The University of Virginia, a law degree from Whittier College School of Law, is fluent in five languages and has spoken to audiences throughout Europe, Southeast Asia, Mexico and North America.
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