deception and limited resolution

baby steps across the ice. such is life.

very few times in our meager existence can we see it in a light that allows us to make judgments. this is not to say that the judgments are clear in any sort of way, but most often, we drudge through life as it slips away without sizing it up. maybe it's not our place to size it up, but we inherently do, regardless of our limited span of sentience.

staring at a delicate flower...able to perceive its beauty, not able to explain why. is it color? is it rarity? is it size? shape? vibrance? catch a glimpse of personal scars in the glass...a lingering sense of imperfection recalling both internal and external flaw. they are, in every sense of the word, delicate. where is the beauty in that? in their emergence? hardly.

cold rain pours down, stiffening the treacherous surface on which we walk. some glide, unshaken by the probable peril. others inch, too frightened...not of the surface itself, but of the conceived consequences. since we are, in fact, fragile beings, obviously inching would bring us safely to the warm, comforting place that we attempt to call home. but for most, home is a dream. home is an idealized place that never tests us, never pushes us. home is a place that always has a steady beat...only sometimes throws us a dissonant chord, which always is followed by a resounding consonance. never frightens. never leaves us uncomfortable. this does not exist.

we are in the wild. a cry trespasses the sense of safety. a horn startles from beyond vision. there is safety in 4/4. there is safety in familiar timbre. there is safety in recognizable themes. too many ache for safety. there is no surprise in safety. there is no outward experience in safety. there is no pain in safety. and without pain, where are we? never could a human experience joy, love, happiness, content, mirth, ambition, laughter without pain and anguish. safety is a cop out.

a homeless man excitedly thanks me for a handful of change that couldn't be more than 2 dollars. maybe he'll purchase a loaf of bread. maybe he'll be able to sustain himself for another day. what does that amount mean to most of us? a third of a pint of inebriating substance? a load of wet clothes in the dryer? a pack of gum so that our breath can seem 'fresh'? a shitty song off of iTunes? what we look at as an insignificant sum of change that we haphazardly throw onto our desk becomes life-preserving manna for another day of existence. don't get me wrong...i too relish in the extravagances of expenditure, but to what end? to be happy? to keep an image? to find pleasure in such a seemingly meaningless lifestyle? to make a 'home'? it is not i that understands the importance of life, but this man.