Often, as a writer, I allow a story to drift off into the void, with no definitive conclusion, resolution, or insight. Life is like that much of the time, a smudge of situations overlapping one another in the same time and space, with no obvious dividing lines between anything, no endings – not unless I create them through various self-deceptions. But even then, the unfinished business of things continue to haunt me, well beyond the artificial endings I’ve given them.
Tag: Imponderables
The inexplicable
“The greatest and most important problems of life are all fundamentally insoluble. They can never be solved but only outgrown.” ― C.G. Jung
I believe that Jung was on to something here, but I would replace “outgrown” with “acknowledged.” Most every situation in life – good and bad – lingers as an emotional footprint, continuing to impact us in both subtle and dramatic ways. Change does not erase nor reconstruct the past, but rather builds around it, like tree roots stretching over the remains of an old stone wall.
The dance
We live in a linear, results oriented world; the theory of cause and effect being the dominant paradigm and ideal. Do good, or pretend to be good, and good will come back to you, including wealth, health, perfect partners to fulfill your every need, a good seat in heaven, a better set of circumstances in the next lifetime, etc. You get the idea here…
Which is:
Free will reigns supreme, or should, according to the go-getters and do-gooders out there. You reap what you sow, as they say. Make the right moves, and this will CAUSE good EFFECTS to come your way: in this lifetime, the next lifetime, or on judgment day. Or suffer the effects of using your free will the wrong way, which means doing dumb things or being too weak, lazy, or narcissistic to make the right choices, thus CAUSING your downfall!
Drips
Hey babe, I like playing armchair shrink, but these new revelations are killing me, coming a little too late for my comfort. You stagger the truth in small, unpredictable increments, like the haunting sound of slow, erratic drips from our leaky faucet. A kind of water torture for me, but with drips of truth, not water; each drip reverberating more ominously, more painfully than the last; always catching me off guard despite the anticipation, and piling up, one on top of the other – an acid wash of drips corroding away your sweet sugarcoating.
Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip
Notes from David 