Tuesday, November 16, 2004


Furthest from the shore, embracing all beyond.

(I'm going to get poetic for a sec. Indulge me.)

Last night I wrote a letter to a friend. In the letter I described some, not all, of what was running around in my skull. You remember that dock scene from The Matrix Revolutions when the sentinels are flying like one massive squid all around the inside of the dome? Multiply it by ten or so, and that's my thought process on a slow day. In my situation severe self-editing is always mandatory; you don't want to flash-fry the few people who get you.

Hardest part of the letter was wrestling with a description of what it's like to go so far out into the realm of what could be that you won't let yourself be aware of the effort involved or (except in the vaguest sense) the reason you tried this little bright idea in the first place. You can't. Courage -- or ego -- only extends so far, adrenalin runs out, nerves grow numb. Even fear and depression eventually collapse, unless you feed them parts of yourself.

The box slowly empties, and all that's left in the bottom is faith. And faith is smart and stays in the damn box.

I have to conclude then that it's will power. If your will is tempered and fired and accustomed to your usual bullshit, then it makes the trip with you, furthest from the shore, embracing all beyond. Will power is the only thing that can keep up and keep you going.

Have I lost you? That's okay. Write it off as a poetic burp in an otherwise pragmatic life.

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