i am an open book. once you get past the dragons, climb the mountain and cross the volcano pit, I’m an open book. My truth belongs not to me, but to the clouds and the wind. These pages are swept over by alpine gusts, weathered by thunderstorms and sunshine. Eroded like rocks in mountain streams, eventually sand or clay our closest manifestations of time on earth. Ice is far more distant. Mountains, oceans, even gorges, nearly unfathomable.
but i won’t get lost in the caverns of my memory. those are for the birds to rest and the bears to sleep. i would rather not bother with details. a book is a simple organ, unencumbered with perception or necessity. it is purely for the sharing of words.
in my library there are many books. books of expectations, categorized in to Self and Others. Failures, subcategory: Regrets, subcategory: Lessons. I’ve got books of dreams. Books of theory. books of desires. Books of fears and self-criticism. Books of plans. I’ve got books of habits. and I will erode little by little, just like the pebbles on the banks of rivers. wind and water wearing away at my skin, muscle, and bone, until I settle, like clay in the delta.
In my book there’s a Theory of Imbalance in my self as an individual, as a society. tomorrow is a perpetual trick played by my book of habits.
comfort is conditional and subjective
care is more than meeting our basic needs, it is responsibility to self which is responsibility to the collective: a philosophy of stewardship
work is my body actively engaging in movement that brings us into the future we want
nourishment happens in conjunction
growth happens in relationship
In this theory of imbalance, there is always a list. a list of things to stop doing, a list of things to start doing, and a list of things to keep doing or to do better. this list changes over time, in different situations, when different issues come up. it is like the books of my library – ever morphing and changing with the winds of time, the context, the situation.
One day my society wakes up, i drink hot tea, the list has burnt to ashes, just like the walls we tore down yesterday, and i can finally contemplate how beautiful life really is.