Just when you think you've got yourself all sussed out, the dawning realization of the futility of your efforts laughs at you.
"You're getting much warmer, yet you're not even close", it seems to say mockingly. "One can not grasp completely what is always expanding and ever-changing."
So, it's like pin-pointing the center of something that has no definite beginning or end, is it? We do that a lot. Or at least, profess to...
We want to believe in something. Want to know something. Need to know. We hope to place our hands upon definite evidence, to grasp it, and possess it. Maybe even call it our own... and not have it turn out to be a Truman Show styled hoax at the end of the day.
We are Pinocchios that want to be real. We have something to prove to confirm our own existence; a proverbial pinch to ensure we are awake. Belting "Hear me. See me...I am...I have conquered...", in child-like voices.
We search for proof of life in our reflections on some mornings. But that is not you smiling as you've been taught to and waving cordially back in the mirror there.
No, that dear heart, is your human suit. Your space apparel fashioned for form and functionality in the physical realm. It is the outfit you can not live [earth life] without.
What's wearing it is any man's guess...
- kj
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