There are some questions asked and there are certain questions answered, and they are done in such a way as to excite the mind. Not because the information sought and the information reported is anything new or unique, but it is, just the same, discovered.

A mother asks a son what he refuses to ask himself. A lover phrases a question oh-so-precisely as to ignite thoughts previously unacknowledged. A simple prayer in the early morning hours becomes a moment of self-reflection and enlightenment. There are spaces — cracks, caverns — within each of us that burn and ache, waiting for the questions, the self-examinations, the answers. Nothing so profound as the meaning of life or the expanse of the universe. No, they are simpler things. So simple, in fact, that they are overlooked. There, in the corner of our everyday lives, in our blind spots, in the shadows. There, but so very absent.

We hear a joke, laugh and say, "It's funny because it's true." We aren't learning anything novel, but rather seeing it in a different light. And so it is with every aspect of our existence: The more we question, accept questions, shift position and change perspective, the more light we cast on ourselves. An inward casting.

But then there are the bits of us we imprison in the shadows. We chain them to the corner of our lives because it is so much easier, so much more comfortable, to ignore those pieces.

But when those blessed moments come — and they do, they always do — a gap is filled up, stitched back, and we welcome in a new version of ourselves, like the best friend we haven't seen in years, yet when they arrive, it seems they've been there always. And those pieces have always been there, they've just been waiting. Waiting to be seen. To be discovered. To complete us just that much more, if only we allow it.

1 comment:

  1. Seriously loved this. I wish I was as talented of a writer as you are.