Immortal Curiosity

Each moment I hope to apply pen to paper, to touch upon one of the currents flowing in my mind, finally to find it acceptable, and possess the unified awareness to divert its flow into ink. I hope it will pool into glyphs of sufficient ability to later remind of their progenitors. But my thoughts, my awareness, this world, these senses, this moment– each becomes, by unique turns, ever more faceted, allowing of ever more interpretations, re-considerations, contemplations. What was passed over as easily as a single step on level ground one year is revealed to be treacherous and filled with difficulty the next. This pattern is further reinforced by my thoughts on the past and my mind as it was, or seemed to be.

Our sun-like consciousness shines a single beam, intent on clarification, into the icy cavern of our thoughts, producing an endless series of reflections, diversion, refractions, and schisms. And the interference of this action is permanent, for even if the beam cases in failure, its warmth has melted some small portion of the cavern, dripping and re-solidifying, ensuring a second attempt will never reveal the same scene again.

I find it paralyzingly difficult to engage in continued consideration of such analogies. But in a very personal and real way, I can attest to such difficulties. I have made many attempts to better understand my mind and the world around me, and far more efforts have been entertained, turned about in thought, and forgotten, rejected, or abandoned, having fallen on rocky soil. I know they could easily be grouped as being within the same endeavour, as necessary diversions in finding the truer path. But their divided and occasionally fractious nature nevertheless results in a division of effort, no overall goal, no cooperation between their many parts– less progress.