almost.space.
We see space as the thing that separates us. And yet, it binds us together like no other system or dynamic that we could come across. It is the thing that creates the power in how we view each other. Space separates, yes. But it also holds everything together.
As some men sit in their silence, awaiting change to happen, they are overcome by this feeling of indescribable fear. The fear that it will end, or, that it already has. See, as space continues to grow and mold and fold over itself time and time spreads thin we often overlook the pain we feel as space separates.
There is no self in how we are supposed to live our lives. It isn’t possible to grow as a human, or a man, if we are constantly stricken by this fear of space. Of end. The end.
There is no power in how my life will turn out, I can’t see the shore on the other side of the ocean that I row against each day. And yet, because of that, because of the unceasing desire to continually push towards the shore behind my broken mind, we as men cannot stand still in the moments we are in pain.
I, as a man cannot stand still in the moments I am in pain. There is no still, we are almost, still. See, the “almost” aspect of the things I write is the most important aspect to focus on. It states that in order for us to find peace, to be still, we must recognize that the “almost”, the close but never there, the shore beyond our minds, is the thing that will bring the most safe and serene and inviting sense of “still” that we all chase.
In order for us as men, or for myself, to actually find a sense of purpose in my own life, I cannot sit still for a second, because in those seconds I have lost the battle with myself. The battle that invites thoughts and fears or space and the end. The end of relationships and friendships. The end of school and learning itself. Those fears of space, the separation between who I am and who you should be and who I should be is all so stuck in how we actually view ourselves within the world we take part in. See, there is no space that I can sit still in, I must stay “almost, still.”
These words I’ve written in five minutes speak entirely to the state of mind that I am in right now. To be honest, there is no coherent through line in the things I am writing right now. And yet, It feels like, because it is the first thing I have written since then, that I am finding the space within the separation to attack the fear, and to stay, almost, still.
And yet, while that fear presides on my shoulder daily I must push through. I must write and think and dream because that is when the shore feels the closest. That is when the pain we suffer as humans ceases, in the moments the shore feels closest we part ways from the things that held us before and we create new ways of building something. A bridge towards the shore, from wherever in the lost ark of devotion to whatever we say we are devoted to, towards the thing, the still. Almost.
