|I study my son in awe, as he pursues all things|
without hesitation, without bias,
and without consideration of failure
The many parts of our lives all have unresolved questions attached to them. What I'm finding to be amazing is that the problems and questions of some parts of our lives have clear answers that are not impossible to come by, given some basic mental clarity, a phone with an "off" button, and meditation, prayer, and solitude. Of course, just because you find the right answer doesn't mean you can apply it to your life. But at least you can figure out what the ideal solution might be, if all encumbrances, all obstacles moved out of your path.
But what about the other parts of our mind, soul, and our life? The parts that instinctively tell us to "GO GO GO GO" as part of our most basic programming? Those with the strongest of spiritual faith may or may not have this qualm - the thought of, "What am I, beyond how I am wired?" This is not a soul search at all. It's a question.
What do we chase?
What do you chase?
I pursue the sights and sounds and smells of the outdoors. The outdoors - though not everywhere outdoors - holds a few places where my other doubts and fears and anxieties cannot find me. At age 38, I still haven't figured out why, and suddenly (for some reason) I want to know. Does the the natural stimulus not only drive me, but also smother out the other parts of my life? Or is it that time afield actually helps me handle those stresses, those many questions that cannot be answered?
It's becoming apparent to me that there exists a set of questions that are mathematically impossible, for they are not meant to be answered at all. Whether they exist as a test from our creator, or as an accidental chemical calculus quiz inherited from our biology, well, that's another debate. I guess the only difference is whether something larger than us knows we (individually or as a whole) are chasing these impossible questions, and of course, whether our souls will return to that other reality somehow.
All I know is that I look at my son, nearly three years old now, and wonder how his mind works. For him, everything is clear. A thing is needed or unneeded. A place is loved or hated. People are either loved by him, or not yet known to him. He knows nothing of expectations, of legacy, of fear, of disappointment. There is no burden. Only intent. There is only fire. No darkness.
What a wonderful way to live.