constant reshuffling
of movement that emerges from
chaos and order
clashing between
fire and water
oh the sweet contradiction
that need to sort
myself out
constant reshuffling
a movement that disorientates
my seeking to know
something rigid
I am thrown into a strange mixture of constant movement and a seeking of stability. I seek to know where I want to end up, but in that seeking I am always confronted with what I do not have. I uplift myself from the strange becomings that always challenge my comfort. For a while now, I have yet to find myself rooted in a world of my own making. Currently, I find myself uprooted, confronting an ever changing world that makes less sense around every corner.
The only constant is change they say. One can never step in the same river twice, Heraclitus tried to convince us. But is this really the case? Is the consistency of change not itself unmoveable in its rigidity and is the same river not already in a constant shifting nature that does not allow us even to think about the same river?
My thoughts are racing against time, yet time allows me to join this frustrating race. I am steeped in everything at once, and my mind tries to clammer and grab onto something solid, so that I can just breathe for a moment, to make sense of what it all means.
The stability I am seeking, like mountains on the horizon, seem too big to grasp all at once. At the foot of the mountain, the task seems to be of such scope that I find myself lost in its complexity.
Yet there is this pull towards something of value that does not allow me to leave it alone. In the end, it will be worth it, my brain says to myself. In the end... will it be worth it?
How much has been lost to time? How many manuscripts were thrown into the fire, destroying the only remaining copy of a life lived? How many names are lost, buried, burned, destroyed? Why this obsession with being known, remaining known? Why this obsession with preserving what there is?
I am reminded by the practice of always upgrading the old so that none of it remains. The old temple is no longer old, always renewed to keep it "fresh". We do not value this, as for some reason we value time; we want to see the dust on the bookcase otherwise we do not appreciate what went into it. The pyramids allows us to think about humanity, but as soon as we hold a hammer in our hands, that sense of wonder is lost. Only in the face of something old do we value life. But is this not the most useless case for keeping something?
In my mind, I want to create something worthy. But in this process, looking back and trying to piece the dust particles together, I am left with nothing but empty ideas in the palms of my hands. I am left grabbing sand or clouds. Why this obsession? Why this need to be able to grab at the tangible? Why not the relishing in the free floating, the always differing, the always changing? Why not step in that river and let it take me down stream, towards the ideas I am seeking?
I am not even sure I am making sense to myself. These questions bounce around in my mind, at a pace that I cannot keep track of. My fingers cannot write the words fast enough; my mind cannot think slow enough; my hand cannot write quick enough. Nothing makes sense, but everything is sense-making; I only grab at the cloud and my mind is flooded with possibilities. Always open to the new, to the clouds, to the sky that burns my face with the heat of the intangible.
I fear the process of melting into forever, I stare at the void who resists my temptation, and I wonder if I will ever dare to write down what I really feel. I am drowning in the words of others, yet I cannot help but create poetry from these musings that only I understand. Are we ever sure of who we are? Are we ever sure of stability?
From the one to the other, and so on and so on...
Forever jumping from this to that and from that to who knows what...
My mind is racing against time, as everything feels so rushed. I am not sure I am making sense, not even to myself. My mind is a strange place.
For now, happy photographing, and keep well.
All of the musings and writings are my own. The photographs are my own, taken with my Nikon D300 and Nikkor 50mm lens.