A rather odd Discovery
It has been a strange and exciting and good and frustrating trip. There have, as always, been high moments of enlightenment, of truly seeing the truth, of elation. And, right alongside, there have been low moments of desperation, of losing the line, of an absolute loss of hope.
I am beginning to learn how both of these pass over our heads and fade into an ever-continuing motion onward. As if, in looking back, our eyes see a sort of soft rolling landscape, a general plain of existence.
Perhaps, that is only true if one desires it to be so. Perhaps others see a pockmarked landscape, a field ravaged by years of war, of desolation, of attack. Others may see a mountain range of moments, an idyllic sun-crested majesty in which they once dwelt, peaceful and serene. To those, the present is a program being played on a television far off in the distance - say a back of someone else's room. The keys and sounds and images are not theirs. They are held by a stranger with either a mighty or an impotent hand, depending on levels of religious assimilation, and of what sort it was. But, for them, the past is their tale and the future is their only hope. A future that is permanently on the verge of becoming a reality.
But, I have caught sight of a different way. Another route to take. In it, the elations and the terrors of life are but moments, short and single threads in a woven tapestry of life. In amongst those rightly colored, garish moments are the muted dull hues of everything else. The soft greens, pale browns, and partial greys that barely phase us. The mundane, day to day - the everyday. The moments we continually allow to slip by.
And, it is in those that we are truly living. The bright splashes only remind us to change direction as a new wind blows the truth out and away from us. And so, we move only to find ourselves in and amongst more greens and browns and greys. Challenged with the monotony to hold our course against, not the tumultuous storm, but against the gradual sway of a current we are perpetually being pulled ashore by. An easy cathartic sort of complacency that eases our eyes from those stark moments and allows us to drift into a sleep.
I am beginning to believe that it is in those challenges, in those mediocre moments that we make the majority of our lives. And the starkness of our action at the moment of crisis will only be an overflowing of the efforts we exerted while the world was not paying any attention.
I am beginning to learn how both of these pass over our heads and fade into an ever-continuing motion onward. As if, in looking back, our eyes see a sort of soft rolling landscape, a general plain of existence.
Perhaps, that is only true if one desires it to be so. Perhaps others see a pockmarked landscape, a field ravaged by years of war, of desolation, of attack. Others may see a mountain range of moments, an idyllic sun-crested majesty in which they once dwelt, peaceful and serene. To those, the present is a program being played on a television far off in the distance - say a back of someone else's room. The keys and sounds and images are not theirs. They are held by a stranger with either a mighty or an impotent hand, depending on levels of religious assimilation, and of what sort it was. But, for them, the past is their tale and the future is their only hope. A future that is permanently on the verge of becoming a reality.
But, I have caught sight of a different way. Another route to take. In it, the elations and the terrors of life are but moments, short and single threads in a woven tapestry of life. In amongst those rightly colored, garish moments are the muted dull hues of everything else. The soft greens, pale browns, and partial greys that barely phase us. The mundane, day to day - the everyday. The moments we continually allow to slip by.
And, it is in those that we are truly living. The bright splashes only remind us to change direction as a new wind blows the truth out and away from us. And so, we move only to find ourselves in and amongst more greens and browns and greys. Challenged with the monotony to hold our course against, not the tumultuous storm, but against the gradual sway of a current we are perpetually being pulled ashore by. An easy cathartic sort of complacency that eases our eyes from those stark moments and allows us to drift into a sleep.
I am beginning to believe that it is in those challenges, in those mediocre moments that we make the majority of our lives. And the starkness of our action at the moment of crisis will only be an overflowing of the efforts we exerted while the world was not paying any attention.
4 Thought(s):
Such in deep thought.. :)
Beautiful. I agree, except I pay special attention to the every day moments, or pack them full of meaning, so that even in their softness they are intense, and in the everyday I catch vibrant threads just by paying attention.
GreenGlass: I really appreciate your comment. I would agree that the softness can, and should definitely have an intensity - in the sense of being full of life. Just as you said: 'vibrant'.
Mag: Thank you. I am continually trying to see the deeper reality of our world. That we are all one part of a magnificent beauty.
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