My mind is a bloody mess. The blood that ran swiftly through, unstructured and disregarded, now battles against speed bumps of inspiration. I find myself unable to eloquently elucidate my current state of thought. In two short weekends my mind was given the shock treatment and left my soul in a state of delirium. How do I piece together the moments of ignorance, minutes of ingenuity, tangos with temporary insanity, and lifetimes of friendships before it all disappears into the black hole of complacency?
I’ve found myself at forks in the road before. Why do the forks always feel so pivotal, when in hindsight they seem decisively inconsequential. As it were, I don’t feel as if I am at a fork, but rather a glade of opportunity, my yellow brick road having led me to StartingBloc; giving me the courage, heart, wisdom, humility, and camaraderie to find the Kansas I’ve been searching for. My narrow perceptions on the state of the world that we inhabit has been broadened to an extent I am not sure I can handle.
I sat in the auditorium, trying to write off the ‘Vertical Farming’ proponent as unhinged, when I began to open myself to hearing his point of view. I realized my lack of knowledge and interest had prevented me from caring about the amount of oxygen left on our planet. Out loud, that sounds entirely absurd. How can I possibly be so ignorant about topics that effect my own personal well being that I am unwilling to learn more and support their fruition?
I wondered how often we come up against obstacles, black boxes, and circumvent them by claiming ignorance instead of tackling them head on and seeking answers to the unknown.
Knowledge is the richest asset we have, and it cannot be robbed of us. Why, then, are we forced to choose a major, pick a line of work, become a specialist, when that choice creates an extremist, fundamentalist & illiterate in all walks of life? Why do we pick one religion, one culture, one city, one goal? What enticement is there in the homogenized life?
If we allowed ourselves to dilate our hair-line of vision to the periphery, perhaps even the inconspicuous, would our dreams turn to stone or would they blossom with the new light that’s been cast upon them, growing more fiercely and exquisitely than we could ever have wildly conceived of?