Sail Away into That Great Unknown
The only path forward is to go onward without understanding. We humans are limited by our finite understanding of not only ourselves, but the world around us. I step blindly now into that great unknown, and I find it beautiful in its mystery.
I want that next great adventure, that next step that might both wash away the pain of the past and allow me to finally embrace it. I yearn for that ahead, wish to rid myself of that great sea of our collective sorrow. I want to be able to dance in the light of lost stars, to live life without abandon in the light of a scarred moon.
That small world I had made for myself in my youth now stretches far beyond the parameters of the kaleidoscope that makes up our human consciousness. If there is no escape, then what is there to do but live.
I am tired of screaming at the sky, lost in the endless onslaught of the sea from which I emerged. I no longer wish for the centennial storm by which I break my many bones against in vain. I believe my fate is not written in the soil beneath me, but in the stars that linger beyond my reach.
They tempt me with their endless possibility, the possibility of a new beginning. The sun sets upon my face time and again, and all I want is to be one with it. Freed of the pain and pleasure of the past, become something anew. To look backwards can be at times key to starting fresh, yet at times there is no answer. I have learned that is alright too.
I do not need the answer to everything to be happy, to set myself toward a brighter future. The future is the sun, with its light weaving a multitude of colors as one would weave an endless tapestry, with each undone and unseen inch being the wonders that have yet to come. I find now I am lost in the colors, taken by the way in which they dance in my eyes.
That which we do not know is that which confounds us and confuses us in equal measure. It captivates our psyche with its endless possibility. I believe we are enamored with what is unachievable, continually striving to prove it can be achieved.
We are simple creatures, yet seemingly as complex as the universe that surrounds us, that awaits us. We strive to better ourselves with each passing year, we give birth to our children as we lay our past to rest. We always look forwards yet are fascinated with what lies behind us.
We are set at one point in time, an inescapable reality that we combat by dreaming of the years that have been or ever will be. We are the ground from which the wider world springs, the lynchpin that holds reality itself together.
We view ourselves of the center of everything that is or ever will be. We are conceited creatures, and yet that is our nature. For human nature is to see both our endless potential and our limitations, simultaneously.
We at all times think we deserve something greater. Perhaps because we view ourselves as something more than we are. Maybe that is right. In our minds we have made the greater mysteries of our cosmos visible through the lens of human perception.
Even in the realm of religion, mankind perceives God in our image, the likeness of this greater thing heralded in our likeness perhaps not as a tribute to it should it exist, but as a tribute to ourselves. How predictable is it that our image of an ultimate creator be of the same make as us in our flesh and blood.
Conceited though we are, we are beautiful. By this grand unified human mind, this greater human spirit that binds us together, we persevere. We continually push onward despite being pushed down. We all fight the waves in our own way. We are captivated by the stars beyond our reach without taking a moment to watch them reflected in another’s eyes.
As I look toward the great unknowable expanse that lies ahead of me, I feel content with how I am not content. I am happy with how I wish to push into the future. I am tired of trying to measure and quantify the meaning behind existence, behind my existence.
Perhaps it is a flawed form of thought, a human fault to believe we can understand everything. I might never understand why my Poppie died, or what I can take from this. I can appreciate the time I had with him; try to maintain the values he instilled in me. Perhaps I can just move on, finally and truly, from the pain of his passing.
There is no clear answer, and perhaps in some way I have made peace with that. I do not know what it is to know all. To perceive this beautiful detail of life that evades our collective grasp. The answer we will never comprehend. Yet perhaps I do not have to understand, to be happy.
