Fence

As in, "Don't Fence Me In."

Fence
Let me be by myself in the evenin' breeze
And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever, but I ask you please
Don't fence me in
—Robert Fletcher; music by Cole Porter (who knew)?

I’m not much of one to sit outside
but I relate to the concept:
“Don’t fence me in.”
It comes out in the phrase:
don’t tell me what to do!
Once, I spent eight minutes in a therapy session,
beating a tackle dummy with a wiffle ball bat
saying that very thing.
Don’t tell me what to do.
My battle cry; my mantra.
It’s even my fear of words from Holy Mystery.
Maybe that’s why I so rarely hear them.
Or they sneak in through the guise of my intuition.
That’s a comforting thought.
Just as it so often happens when dealing with a controlling person.
Make a suggestion and they’ll say, “no.”
Two days later, it’s okay, because it’s their idea.
So, don’t tell me what to do, and we’ll get along just fine.