In order to find my truth, I must be willing to question everything. Everything I thought was true. Everything I have said. It changes… the way a shoreline changes with each wave that laps. With each ripple. It is altered by evaporation and by rain showers. Riverbeds and seashores, species and science adapt. They are redefined by facts. Some people like to nail things down. They may feel threatened by new information.
I’m nostalgic. I love outdated things that hold memories for me. My house is filled with artifacts from my youth. I try to instill my pottery with a sense of antiquity. Those old things were once new, even cutting edge. They may now seem naive. Cumbersome. Like ideas that have made way for better information.
Sometimes a whole storyline goes crashing down, to be replaced by something else, or replaced by the absence of it. Sometimes the best thing to do is loosen my grip. The truth is still the truth, regardless of how I feel about it. I only hope I will embrace a buoyant, open mind rather than a pretentious argument.