What will you rely on when there is nothing to rely on? Or, not exactly "nothing" -- the mist is something, after all, but what it is seems to be just what it is ... reliably unreliable as it slips across the green fields of the past. Tiring, infuriating, panicking, nuzzling ... the mist comes quietly but lacks even silence. To mention it is to risk whining, but what the hell, a good whine now and then seems to go with the territory.
Sometimes I imagine I will turn some corner and be consumed by a concern with spiritual life or political skulduggery or something not quite so misty. Maybe so -- you never know.
I've always thought that fear is a killer. But where does it come from? Is it accumulated from experience? Just part of the landscape? Baggage that comes with being? Fear seems to come with a universal adapter. My paranoid imagination seems able to plug it into anything i can think of. Having an infinite reach, perhaps suggests that it's beginning is unknowable, lost in that infinite what the fuckness.
ReplyDeleteSo here we are, grasping for something dependable. And i have to think that if you googled "dependable", change, stupid, and fear would be the most returned hits. Dial 1-800 make me feel safe, and somebody promptly arrives to pull the rug out from under you, with an abyss below.
We don't like change, the outcome is uncertain and potentially unfortunate. And yet we live in a universe of colliding particles where stasis is temporary at best. I wonder if subatomic particles suffer with fear.
I evaded the potential pain implied in your poetic and touching post by letting my monkey mind have at it. Stupid lets me pretend to be safe, while change and fear clearly are scary.