Niche: 1. a recess or hollow in a wall, as for a statue, bust, or vase 2. a place or position particularly suitable to the person or thing in it 3. any small, specialized business market 4.b) the specific space occupied by an organism within its habitat
That’s right and now I’ve said it.
“Arriving” is the lie, isn’t it?
Maybe all kinds of honest floundering is where it’s at.
Maybe it’s “lucky” for me that me and my ways aren’t beautiful
In an in-crowd, pretty and put-together kind of way.
I have been unsuccessful at stuffing in neat and tidy boxes.
I’m sort of a mess.
(So I guess I have arrived somewhere. See “mess.”)
Maybe it’s its own niche,
But I don’t think so.
‘Cause really, none of us has “arrived.”
Leastways not with any permanence.
Gettin’ er done? No, not really.
Floundering around under the illusion of control?
All of us: no matter how well the illusion paints otherwise.
So why not be an honest – to goodness? – mess?
Maybe this is where the progress is.
Not in a drowning sort of way, but in a
kind of way that admits need and begs help and seeks direction
and admits not-knowing and looks and believes
that healing inward to healthy outward means looking upward.
Anyways, niche-less does preclude collecting dust.
(And I really hate dusting.)
Dependent on the direction of Another, yes.
But for whatever reason, He seems not to want any
Do Not Touch signs.