Of trifles and such

Many days I feel of little importance. I know this probably shocks many of you due especially to my almost constant braggadacio and whatnot, but I still cannot shake the feeling that I mean almost nothing. I told someone recently (I can't remember who, if it was you, sorry) that the real thing I have going for me in life is potential. In fact, this does nothing to set me apart from anyone else, it is the same positive quality we all have.

Potential may in fact be all that we have. Basically, can the present be enjoyed without the potential that that present will carry through to some other present? I'm not saying it has to last forever, but isn't our happiness really born out the fact that the present we have will continue to manifest itself (not ad infinitum but through some series of presents, no matter how small)? We should be happy for this continuity.

Regardless it is this same potential that creates in us a lack. A feeling of future manifestation of truth. Can we be happy with ourselves, or must we always feel of some little consequence? Does this unhappiness have to make us unhappy?

It has been said (and I'm sure you've all heard it) that we must find our place in the world, and at the same time, we must appreciate how much there is that is outside of us, how much greater the out is opposed to the in. And yet each of us is full; and each of us has our hidden parts, unknown completely to others. And isn't the unknown an infinite? Doesn't it have the quality of infinite potential, at least to others. Slowly as we seek to reveal ourselves can we not reveal something utterly different from our past? Or in the future, something utterly different from our present? Is this surprise not a joyous occassion? (Sam Zun called me to say there is good possibility that he will joining us in Chicago next year, a surprise as joyous and unexpected as any. Though even as I may leave in the year following.)

But in its fulfilment, it seems it must give way to the lack, in order to become again, forcing us to live constantly on the edge of happiness, on the edge of completion, and yet this non-completion is a part of a whole. So It can be said of everyone, she lived a full, complete life. Nothing can be left unfinished, as we are beings of being unfinished.

Listening to: Bob Dylan - Isis "I married Isis, on the fifth day of May. But I could not hold on to her very long."