I have a friend who has lived in his car for the last twenty years. It is hard for him to put down roots, yet he's the best story teller I know. He has lived and died in his stories. One day he told me, " Throw your hat over the fence". I wrote this down and put it on my drawing table. The paint splats and flicks reveal about fifteen years of paint drip escapees; pigmentile fugitives marching to the beat of a different drummer.
I find the "hat-toss" idea simple, but nudge-ful. When I am tentative, or dilly-dallying, these words often swing into view like monkeys. "Richy, you ape," they bobble their heads, "if you want that 'thing' to happen, throw your silly hat over the fence, then you have to act." And they are right. I must now either walk away, or climb over the fence to get my hat, and though risking the bulls who might charge, I find a new pasture full of allure and possibility.