There is a time in life when you expect the world to be always full of new things. And then comes a day when you realize that is not how it will be at all. You see that life will become a thing made of holes. Absences. Losses. Things that were there and are no longer. And you realize, too, that you have to grow around and between the gaps, though you can put your hand out to where things were and feel that tense, shining dullness of the space where the memories are.
“You’ll never reach a point in your life where everything is solved, all neatly tied up in a bow. That’s the point. There’s no ‘final scene’, only the on-going adventure movie, forever unresolved. You learn to love the mess of your life, its constantly changing nature, its unpredictability. And you stand as the immutable silence in the midst of the storm, the wide open space in which joy and pain, ecstasy and agony, boredom and bliss, can arise and subside like waves in the ocean. There are no problems when you know yourself as the space for it all.”
I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.
“I am not attracted to book smart. I could care less about your college degree. I am attracted to raw intelligence. Anyone can sit behind a desk. I want to know what you know beyond the realm of our society. And only living and seeking can give you that intelligence. We’ve got time. Let’s sit on the rooftop at 2am and introduce me to your mind.”
