I’m starting to feel like I’ve been through the deck so many times that I’d rather just throw all my cards down on the table face-up because I’m tired of trying to learn each set of rules. Never really one for games outside of wordplay, my patience seems only to be decreasing with experience.
And too, it is unclear what in this context connotes winning because surely I have some chips remaining on the table. Time is not numerical, measured in days, weeks, months, or years, but relational, comprised of versions of self in situ.
I am not looking for black and white, but rather perhaps more striated shades on the continuum of gray that seems to encompass everything. Or maybe I am looking for black and white, but I have no doubt that confronted with such clarity I’d search out the hints of gray, the blur on the cusp of the lines. By staying in constant motion, a relative state of flux, I’ve managed to both accelerate and stop simultaneously, neither there nor there and relentlessly certain in the uncertainty, the possible impermanence of here. By seeking out stable transience, I have successfully avoided permanence thus far.
But already something has shifted, almost unconsciously fallen into step. While no doubt we can each and both survive on our own footsureness, it sure is nice to share the miles.