"Clear"
The blank slate, tabula rasa, is the great lie of our age. Nothing starts clear. Our world is one of prejudice. History is always present. There is always something, it’s just a question of whether our assumptions come from within or are imposed from the outside. We are beings with short lives thrown into a biological system that has existed long before we appeared. It will be here long after we are gone.
So, how much work does it take to get to the beginning? How much sweat to even bring ourselves to the starting line?
In the ancient world, the garden was the epitome of natural beauty, but over centuries we lost our way. The wild became our standard. This is an error in as much as, by it’s very definition, the wild is separate from mankind. It is no different than trying to commune with the divine. The act of making contact instantly makes divinity profane; it changes the wild towards something tame. We cannot separate our influence on the landscape around us. Romanticism is dead, and the wild as it once was ceased to exist long ago. Every inch of the earth has footprints now, no matter how faint. So, not by choice, we are forced to return to where we started. The wild has been domesticated, it is but an echo from which we tremble in the twilight of our lives. We have imposed ourselves and spread our existence unto the ends of the earth. It's just a question of what it will look like from here until we each succumb to our own eventual finish.
In the creation of a life we must look for something lasting to shape, to mold according to vision. We seek a product of both our efforts and our will, but we must not underestimate the effort it takes to get to the start. To find the expression of vision, aimed towards a single goal over the course of years and decades, we must cleanse ourselves of history both natural and man made. Even though it cannot be done entirely, if we are to reach our potential we must strive to first reach the beginning. Then, and only then, can we impart order, to plant our gardens with hearts and minds open, and our perceptions clear.
So, how much work does it take to get to the beginning? How much sweat to even bring ourselves to the starting line?
In the ancient world, the garden was the epitome of natural beauty, but over centuries we lost our way. The wild became our standard. This is an error in as much as, by it’s very definition, the wild is separate from mankind. It is no different than trying to commune with the divine. The act of making contact instantly makes divinity profane; it changes the wild towards something tame. We cannot separate our influence on the landscape around us. Romanticism is dead, and the wild as it once was ceased to exist long ago. Every inch of the earth has footprints now, no matter how faint. So, not by choice, we are forced to return to where we started. The wild has been domesticated, it is but an echo from which we tremble in the twilight of our lives. We have imposed ourselves and spread our existence unto the ends of the earth. It's just a question of what it will look like from here until we each succumb to our own eventual finish.
In the creation of a life we must look for something lasting to shape, to mold according to vision. We seek a product of both our efforts and our will, but we must not underestimate the effort it takes to get to the start. To find the expression of vision, aimed towards a single goal over the course of years and decades, we must cleanse ourselves of history both natural and man made. Even though it cannot be done entirely, if we are to reach our potential we must strive to first reach the beginning. Then, and only then, can we impart order, to plant our gardens with hearts and minds open, and our perceptions clear.