I sit and wait for the words to come, listening to the wind tear down through the mountains in the middle of the night. Attempting to get to the rooted source of beginnings, I know that this wind comes from somewhere much farther away than the Pacific Ocean. That in fact, we could never track down that first movement of air, the first current of water, the first shifting of pressure that brings the wind into our moments. Everything in life, whether it is the weather in the sky or the emotions within us, is a part of a process and flow and intertwinement so deep and complex and refined that we could never wholly define it and lay it out on the table completely visible. We have to step outside of ourselves simply to know this concept to be true, beyond theoretical formulations. We have to disassociate ourselves from ourselves in order to know how we are something much bigger, much deeper, much more expansive than what we know from our daily actions, our fleeting thoughts, our stormship emotions. We have to go far away in order to know where home is.
To truly include all of anything that any one person or thing is, you would have to include all the world.
In the surface day to day transactions that we know as our concrete existence, things appear so discrete, boundaries so insurmountable, shadows and reflections so determined. But the farther inward or outward you go from there, the more indistinguishable become the lines. At what point is there me, and at what point is there you? From outer space, we are the earth, a webbed set of links, determined by cycles and currents. On the level of molecules, we are porous chains, determined only by what can be embraced.
At all levels, whether surface, inner, or cosmic interactions, everything is interconnected. To speak of individuals as isolated from each other is to speak of a world that does not exist. It is more accurate, perhaps, simply to say that many people are disconnected from themselves without awareness of it. To be aware of your separation is to be aware of your greater connectivity. We formulate words to string them into creations that stir the pot of what we know, that push our perceptions yet further into self-knowledge. We will never know everything, we will never know ourselves completely, so hence the struggle, the foment of unsayable things, the despair and the beauty, the tragic events and the transcendent moments. The current moves, and a storm occurs, and a child cries in the night.