Let there be balance

I love writing. I’m not good at basketball, or engineering, or not crying during Disney movies, but I love to write. It’s like a hypnotically therapeutic dance wherein I partner with the world and myself. It’s my cup of essence poured into the sea of life. Words are colors that we only see when the sun shines a certain way through the diffuse clouds of our emotions and the resonant water droplets of of our tumbling, turning, shaking, chortling, churning, exhausting, encouraging, terrifying, edifying, involving, isolating experience hang in the clouds with crystalline serenity.

If you ever doubt the complexity of a human being, simply observe the complexity of language.

Language is vaunted ambiguity gently (sometimes viciously) corralled into steaming gobs of presumptive communication, gobs that are subsequently spewed into the joyously seething hearts and minds of the collective audience.

Sometimes, the result is streamlined serendipity, but too often, the result is fractured and stultified, a lethargic dragon flapping its wings with diminishing intensity resulting in precipitous drops in altitude, all the while pumping out the erratic blood trails that drip from the jagged wounds of misguided and malformed rhetorical arrows that have hideously grazed their swiftly moving mark. Thus, strife, discord, the sound and the fury. Groans, moans, and gnashing of teeth. “These guys attack those guys, and those guys attack these guys.”

But does it have to be that way? Can’t we all just get along?

No, we can’t, at least not in any sort of tranquility type of scenario. We can’t even get along with our own self; how could we possible achieve some sort of societal bliss? But I don’t think that unrealistic goal is even what we really want. The proverb is not “Iron sits placidly beside iron”. No, it is,

"As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." (Proverbs 27:17)  

Life is about rubbing shoulders, shaking hands, high fives, arm wrestling, line dancing, and maybe even a little Macarena (metaphorically of course). As the old sage Kid Rock has said:

Now get in the pit and try to love someone!

Kid Rock, “Bawitdaba”

Our words don’t have to be long range missiles of definite voracity and dubious veracity. They can be simple, soft or firm. Minimalism impresses me more than sesquipedalian splurge, perhaps because I tend a smidge more toward one than the other. Look for your words. They are out there, waiting for you.

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