words not only find themselves attached to commodities, they become commodities
and if the written word made me a dollar, would I still love it the same. Once it bears the fruit of transaction and precarious livelihood will I still will it to fruition with the same immediacy.
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I think it's intrinsic for humans to want to avoid misunderstandment of any kind. That of being misunderstood and the act of misunderstanding another. We have a drive towards understanding everything around us. I'm trying to loosen the reins on understanding in an effort to try to become comfortable with a limbo stasis. Floating on cross sections for my own humility's sake. Welcoming thus the vitality of my naivete as not a downfall but a farce of contentment.
Often in this pursuit of knowledge, especially in interpersonal relationships, we tend to jump the gun. We end up talking over each other because in order to have our needs met we need to be heard, so much that we fail to really listen to the other person. Even while we are still as the other speaks we formulate and plot our next response. The active listener, a poorly rendered facade.
Once we get the thing we pine over we don't want it anymore, we see it as less precious. Instead of feeling accomplished we day dream over longing's ghostly fodder.
I think giving into these modes of being is to give in to cyclical habit formation. Instead of acting on care we act on impulse because this impulse more often than not yields results just fine. Which is why we don't see our way of being as uncaring.
I'd like to believe that there is more intentional ways of moving around the world. More tailor made ways to love. I think it starts with finding the silence in one's mind and tuning in.
