lines can haunt you

2006-03-16

Perforce I was an architect

Living, naturally, is never easy. ~ Albert Camus

There is nothing that cannot be overcome through living, quite naturally. ~ Anonymous

What is a closed heart? I have used the term before, and, thinking back on it now, I probably used it incorrectly in the past. A closed heart was one that could not accept or return love. That was what I thought. But is it not also true that a closed heart might be one that cannot but focus on a single target? Could not a passionate mother or jealous husband be said to be experiencing the self-same closed heart as one who rejects love in preference to sanity, stability, happiness? I think it does, for in the first case the over-interested parties have closed their hearts to the world, to the possibility of possibility, to a simple openness that claims all paths and outcomes as 'could-have-been'. Yes, it is true.

But then there is no answer. Of course there isn't. What should I do with my life is a question that does not require an answer. You did, and you did not, are the only possible answers. Everything else is magic and distractions of the mind. (Which, of course, is the only sane thing to preoccupy yourself with - these passing fancies. And in a very real way, these are the only things that matter at all.)

Will the meek ever inherit the Earth? I doubt it. I watch with interest and pathos the scrabbly clawfoot of a pigeon that has seen better days; it pecks at the patio between the rocks for muffin crumbs and the things that look like food. His right foot is mangled beyond recognition and he uses it sparingly - the deformation due to disease or extreme cold, probably, I'm sure it would be amputated if it existed in the kingdom of humanity. If it is possible for the less conscious animals to suffer, then certainly it is true that this one suffers.

I will open my arms to the world of possibilities and see what unfolds. O world, suffer my folly, as surely as I will suffer the follies of all. The foil by which I am pitched in the chest and tossed crownward will be planted by hand - undoubtedly, my own. And yet I will walk this path knowingly and without fear or respite. But I will always wonder: was I poorly cast in this role or just incapacitated by all the diversions along the way?


Navigation previous entry next entry latest entry archives profile notes e-mail How lines can haunt you... Recent Forays 2009-03-10: The names 2008-05-21: in medias res 2007-11-14: The things I meant to write about: 2007-07-29: More than meets the eye 2007-04-13: Where the words have gone. Links Abroad in medias res Modern Drunkard Ftrain The Onion Exploding Dog McSweeney's Internet Tendency The National Pist Higher Blogs Palinode's Palace Schmutzie Friday Films Luvabeans Sprigs Fairlywell Dirty Laundry Boombasticat f-i-n jonquill Stray Sparrow Swordfern Pablo Ashahands Erasing		2006-03-16 Perforce I was an architect Living, naturally, is never easy. ~ Albert Camus There is nothing that cannot be overcome through living, quite naturally. ~ Anonymous What is a closed heart? I have used the term before, and, thinking back on it now, I probably used it incorrectly in the past. A closed heart was one that could not accept or return love. That was what I thought. But is it not also true that a closed heart might be one that cannot but focus on a single target? Could not a passionate mother or jealous husband be said to be experiencing the self-same closed heart as one who rejects love in preference to sanity, stability, happiness? I think it does, for in the first case the over-interested parties have closed their hearts to the world, to the possibility of possibility, to a simple openness that claims all paths and outcomes as 'could-have-been'. Yes, it is true. But then there is no answer. Of course there isn't. What should I do with my life is a question that does not require an answer. You did, and you did not, are the only possible answers. Everything else is magic and distractions of the mind. (Which, of course, is the only sane thing to preoccupy yourself with - these passing fancies. And in a very real way, these are the only things that matter at all.) Will the meek ever inherit the Earth? I doubt it. I watch with interest and pathos the scrabbly clawfoot of a pigeon that has seen better days; it pecks at the patio between the rocks for muffin crumbs and the things that look like food. His right foot is mangled beyond recognition and he uses it sparingly - the deformation due to disease or extreme cold, probably, I'm sure it would be amputated if it existed in the kingdom of humanity. If it is possible for the less conscious animals to suffer, then certainly it is true that this one suffers. I will open my arms to the world of possibilities and see what unfolds. O world, suffer my folly, as surely as I will suffer the follies of all. The foil by which I am pitched in the chest and tossed crownward will be planted by hand - undoubtedly, my own. And yet I will walk this path knowingly and without fear or respite. But I will always wonder: was I poorly cast in this role or just incapacitated by all the diversions along the way? Tell me when this blog is updated email: