My ol' pal Dusty once passed on some wisdom to me. We'd been ridin' trail up near Taos. Me on my Paint Louie n' Dusty on that Morgan mare. Well we came to a place in the trail where we needed to decide which was the best and brightest way to continue. I turned to Dusty, Dusty seemin' somewhat wiser n' all, and sought some advise. Dusty said. "Well from here, it don't matter a lot does it? I mean we're goin' home, right?" Dusty continued. "It seems to me there's many a time when a person might consult some sorta book or shaman or voodoo visionary, or some such fer direction, but mostly what matters, is a person deciding fer themself, or so it strikes me." I scratched my head and pondered. Dusty prattled on a bit more sayin': "You go on about your direction seekin', me, I'm right hungry so's I'm a goin' home". With that me n' Louie was left standin' with our quandry n' a pair of achin' bellies. About then I decided that the best course to travel was the one I liked, the one that got me "home". I gave ol' Louie his head, let him decide, and off we went.
When we got home that night me n' Dusty made us a big warm campfire. We built it out'a them books a' theories n' teachins and whatnot that I'd done been collectin'. We grilled us up some Buffalo steaks. We followed our gut. We drank some whiskey. We ate some beans. We hunkered down. We shot the breeze. We went to bed. We slept mighty well that night with the aroma of buffalo steaks and wisdom lingering in the air.
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