It can take up to 93 years to find out that how we approached life was not entirely true to form. We thought we had the facts of life all figured out, but what we failed to do was to look beyond the tough-eye evidence. We forgot our heart in the assessment process.
It can be impressive to untangle obscure motives, to reveal a person's intentions, to uncover their subversive plots and to thwart their secret missions. We may leave a mouth agape, and we may become famous and revered in its wake.
The facts, though, aren't enough. Are they, Mr. Holmes?
There are realities that reside beyond the mind; they enter regions that are dicey to entertain. We don't like dwelling inside these regions. They are murky and cannot be quite arranged and put together like a titillating brain game.
It takes heart to live life. It takes courage to recognize that we mainly reside in the abstracted spheres of our minds because we don't like to dive deep for lengths of time. It's where we hide the things we'd rather not call our own. There lives the spider lady waiting to engulf us, suffocate us, and tarnish us to the world above.
Once the heart opens, though, entirely new dimensions color our lives. We start living. We start feeling. We start emoting. We - become possible. We lay out the stones around us, the connections we formed, the hearts we've met, those we wished we'd known before, those that bared themselves to us later in life.
Rilke wrote that we need to learn a great deal before we're ready to properly love. He thought that all these 'in love' shenanigans had no place early on in our adulthood. Later is when we know more, when we feel more authentically, when we accept more, when we....open ourselves...more
Our society doesn't teach us to be vulnerable. It doesn't teach us to sit and let the pain sit with us. It propels us toward a pain-skirting existence, but what it turns into is a lackluster life that fast becomes bare knuckle survival. We want all the colors without any kind of effort, any kind of offering on our ends. We are an unresolved origami, strangers to ourselves, enslaved to the opinions of others.
The beauty of connection unravels the so called facts of life. The sum does not come close to revealing the intricacy of each part. If we only look at it from the aggregate, we become tempted to ball up together facets in the hopes that the 'ugly' parts will be swallowed up, become invisible, and die off.
They always come up though. They always do...somehow.
And what it does is - we don't twirl as much. We don't throw our arms up and rejoice in the salience of each moment often enough - we are less silly and we become less real. We make up for our perceived flaws by building a routine of seduction and distraction. We are simply marionettes in this theater of pretend existence.
In the end, we end up not sure anymore, because we cared too much about the facts.