April 22, 2020

Grounded: A Paradox

Pressure's on. Time to perform.
Time to make something happen.
Time to act a little god-like – or
is it like a little god? I don't quite
remember. I'm a little rusty in the
department of divinity these days,
at least insofar as it involves rapid
delivery of results and answers,
speedy deliverance from the
Unknown. Truth is, I never
quite got the hang of it, the
breakneck pace, that is, the
fast flight toward an End,
toward Resolution. My neck is still
very much intact, and though I donned
wings at some point – perhaps they
came with the donnish garb by which
I entered the circle of counselors 

at law – my feet have remained 

fastened to the earth, clods of clay, 

heavy with a viscous mix of
minerals, water, and microbial life.
Don't get me wrong: I understand its
value. I get the comfort and necessity
of a quick Conclusion, the neat tidiness
of reaching Closure with all deliberate
speed. This is what makes Action
possible. I take all of this as given,
and as good, for that matter, generally
speaking. But I also give quarter to the
notion that answers are, by necessity,
partial, and thus illusory, to a large extent.
I do not take the quarter as the whole, when
I cannot so much as say, "This is a quarter
of the answer you seek." That would
be silly, and I know better than to
act the silly demigod. Better to drop
the act and plod ahead, a humble
human wholly, my wings an ornament
of aspiration, both useful and useless.