I marvel at the fact that I think I know anything, that anyone does. It’s a wonder that fills our days and nights, although it’s called something else at 3am when it’s rattling through your mind, keeping you from sleep.
Isn’t life a compilation of pixels, a photo mosaic of bits of knowing, strung together into infinite structures? Some bits assume the forms of what looks to be skyscrapers, floor upon floor reaching to the heavens, in clear display for all to see, the parts of ourselves we allow to wander, more or less freely in the world. They become buildings freeways businesses homes ideas concepts beliefs, hard knowing expressions, hard lines in the ever-moving sands of time.
Others resemble tunnels, burrowed deeply, zigzagging forking endlessly, rarely seeing the light of day, hidden from sight, stuffed and imprisoned within and without. Sometimes knowingly, often not, they are backrooms of our society and our mind where we make deals with the devil we know to delay, perhaps to prevent altogether meeting the darkness within.
It would be lovely, absolutely grand, if we knew where these bits of knowing lay in wait, where the pixels that comprise and create our lives hide. Above or below ground, they hide in plain sight, so obvious once seen, but camouflaged by their lack of anything substantially different, so ordinary we look right past, so a part of the scene that they don’t stand out in any way … until it’s time.
Each is its own line in the play, the beginning of the next act titled: And life begins anew. Each one feels like the end of the old; it is … feels like awakening to a new world., it is … seems like the end of the search; perhaps … opens into the next new act; always.
Knowing hides as the givens on our life, those things we don’t question, don’t even consider questioning. Knowing is real … to us but not to all. That’s a hint, a divine whisper, that just maybe it isn’t knowing at all, but something more insidious, something that is stealing our innate love and laughter, curiosity and willingness, and stripping us, knowing by knowing, of our humanity.
Don’t despair. The path, life’s experience, illuminates the hiding spots, outs the caverns and the spires. That’s the story here, duck duck goose … like children, round and round we go until all the geese are flown, all the scraps of knowing, the pixels of arrogance, melt back into simply This, life as it is, heaven as earth, earth as heaven in a brilliant fusion of what was once the devils and angels of our own making.