Something deep within us makes us want to remember and at the same time, to forget the tender yet violent passing of the moments that is etched in the lines of our faces that are now gashes of eternity. Something in us urges us to move on – to be stronger than what we are now, to harden the heart, and to never look back. We do not want to be tied up, nor do we want anything to hold us back. We want to resolutely fix our eyes outward, onward, and forget what we had gladly shaken off. Yet something in us wants to give in to the gentle voice that calls us to return, and it takes all that we have to resist it, knowing that at any given time, we shall succumb to it, and the moment we do so, we are undone.
Something in us rebel against the idea of being in process. We do not like the idea of change. The mere hint that we are unfinished chafes at us, and irritates us. It offends our sensibilities. We do not like to admit that some part of us, some portion needs to be worked on. This fear, this negative perception negates the very claim of our fixedness. Yet, somehow, deep within us, we sense our unfinished being; portions of who we are that need fixing, parts that remain unworked on. We are somehow aware that something in us, somewhere in us longs for a master builder to complete us, to work in us and to chip away all that is not us, and to reveal within us a masterpiece waiting to be unveiled. We want stability but sense our incompleteness.
Where do you go when you want to leave and yet at the same time you want so badly to remain, to stay so close that every breath, every intake of air is amplified, and the every beat of your heart crescendos and reverberates as if forever. How does one wait out the rush of desire and yet at the same time the wave of revulsion that passes through you in equal intensity? We find comfort in our fixedness and yet there are times when the right conditions are there, and the moon is ripe when we sense our listless spirits wanting to break through and follow the surge of tides. And once more, we are left with a perplexing truth: there are aspects of who we are that remain inscrutable, and the clues carelessly thrown at us are too vague to be ever grasped, and we are left knee-deep in bewilderment.
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