"Plumb the depths. There is no bottom."
- RPW
I don't know. I've been wading depths for a very long time. Too long, perhaps. I sometimes feel that I resonate with that Benjamin Buttons character, life moving backwardly-forward. As if I was born a way-too-old soul and have only gotten to a point were I can breathe easy as I near a measured 44. I'm not saying that I feel like a kid or adolescent or horrid 20-something or anything, G-d forbid! I'm not nor ever have been one of those wish-I-could-go-back-in-time types. That's crazy talk. No. We forge ahead.
There may or may not be a "bottom" to the proverbial depths but the deeper you go, the greater the density and the thicker the muck and the more difficult the going. Like movement from air to water to sand to mud to clay to rock to magma; like a too vivid dream of falling into an ocean and continuing downward into a blackness. But even this simple analogy suggests depths sans bottom, but a continuing through a molten center and back out through magma through rock through clay through mud through sand through water and into the cool, crisp air.
Perhaps I have plumbed the depths already and am now and finally nearing some cool, crisp, easy air. Maybe heights is the new new. Depths past. I've seen through knots, reconciled whirlpools, asked difficult questions of myself, now maybe it's time to fly, evolve, or just accept that this is it and "it" is fine. Who knows and who is to say?
Besides, mud on one's shoes is truly gauche. Manners still count for something. It's 2009 and we're not as afraid of the blacks and the gays anymore. It's a new deal.
Depths plumbed. Thank you very much.
Next question: Where does the sky go?
Posts
