( – promoted by DDadmin)
Every once in a while I run across something on the internets that goes deep and touches my soul. That was my experience when I read a post by Nezua at The Unapologetic Mexican titled We Stand In No (Every) Place.
So here’s a bit of it.
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.
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.
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.