I CAME TO THIS WORLD from far, far away. From a land now almost four decades in the past. In a setting so different than this one I can barely recognize my way around at times. More importantly, amidst philosophies and a worldview that is given little room in today’s social dialogues. That is no obstacle…it is an opening, a clearing, a path that remains with me. It can be placed down projected over laid across any thicket or tumble of stone and still lead me home.
Sometimes I feel my truest views mesh with the current political and social conversations not at all, if rather jarringly. As an alien, I do take part. To the best of my ability. But the truth is, I rarely find long-lasting excitement or joy or comfort or satisfaction in so much of what this culture offers, what the media offers, what even us serious people so often entertain. As I’ve said, I wear it all very loosely. A garment that matches me at times. For a moment. A reader may find that my writing sometimes dances with a self-mocking tone, and when not being plain outraged, takes on a comic tint. What a casual reader may not know is that when it does, I am at my most earnest.
I struggle with certain paradigms championed in the news or online. We stumble onto them and they are blessed for they can address a problem or a lacking which has needed to be so met. But too often, instead of letting them take hold of us, grip and shake and break up our thinking for a time before falling away and leaving only the parts we’ve found can be organically molded, melded, or taken in as our own truth, we end up in a cage of thought. THIS worked one time, so let me always use THIS. Let me see everything through THIS. But life is always new, and is no One Well-Proven Thing. Being tricked into seeing it as such is not the fault of our TV or our politicians. I see this is a human behavior and it will probably always be with us.
We are always new. Every moment is new. No moment need be like anything that came before, even when the resemblance is striking and our imagination lacking. And yet, of course we must learn from who we once were. But to let a lesson that once helped inform every step forward is to walk an old path, and to preclude the sight of new horizons from our view.
Many people I read or come across are educated well in their area, and finding these people and their writings which demonstrate the education they have proves extremely helpful to me. As has so much of my own education. But being amongst so many others with so many different lessons and backgrounds… O, how I use you all! Like a mass of teachers. I will flit and fly among you like a crow. Landing on a fence here, or a stone there, a wall here, a stump here. Perhaps for a time a shoulder or a hand, even. Watching, listening, nodding, stealing. For a time. Until I find those places (and this will always happen and it’s a good thing) where I just cannot connect to the lesson anymore. The treasures are finding those willing to smash their own surety, and feeling myself rise with the bravery they demonstrate.
Because life is not like a series of books in a course on …anything. It fluctuates. We fluctuate. We are not a being, but a becoming, as Friedrich once said. And sometimes ideas are hammered out and we draw lines and walls and are told we fall on one side or the other and so do our thoughts and so does all that follows from them…and so it goes. We buy into these illusory borders, too. Even this blog pretends demarcations that at moments are nothing more than a signpost, or a cape slung over the shoulder of a spiritual vagrant. In the name of this joining of spirit and matter that I am, and in the aim of not dispersing into the sixteen winds like an explosion of ancient dandelion rune, it is at times important to imagine contained and definable elements of my Self; distinctions that separate I from the Other.
I am far more comfortable navigating the in-between than I am in any Place. I like no thing as much as the coming and going from one to another. It is on the purpling beaches of dusk and the roseing gauze of dawn that my true eye shines lidless and I see so much more than in broad daylight. In the falling away of my tired husk I remember my shape can only be held temporarily. And to cling too tightly to it is to rot.
Being sure is but the borderwall we place around a heart to ward off the skinstripping wind of the next living moment.