autotelic, autistic, assonance-hole©.

crawl, stand, walk, run… fly?

We are label-less, humans;
for all we insist upon them,
for all we cherish their neat lines,
their encapsulated meanings.
A million, a billion slivers of paper,
attached to the sky, are not the sky;
no more so a million or billion labels
attached to the person, the concept,
the movement, the intention.
Underlying paradox, this; how do you
promote discourse when all words are,
ultimately, determined of meaning by
the individual ear, eye, and mind?
Concepts that are woefully out of fashion
make humble obesience, requesting attention:
Benefit of the doubt, asking rather than assuming,
granting license for range of interpretation,
and use of them all to carefully, mindfully find
the place called “common ground”.
I am reminded of Campbell, of Jung, of the works
that point to universalities and commonalities;
the shared concepts that drape like silk over us;
I am reminded of shared aspirations that,
like air, are fundamental to us all.
I am reminded of infants
and the process of learning
to crawl, to stand, to walk, and to run.
There are those who will say this is impossible;
to them I reply that yes, running is now so.
to them I reply that yes, walking is now so.
to them I reply that yes, standing is now so.
However, crawling…
Belly to the dirt, head and neck upwardly straining,
we are infants in this consideration, in this process;
flailing and kicking not as much at one another, but
to gain purchase, find balance, and seek the leverage
upon which we may place our hands.
Finding only air, some would say it does not exist,
this mythical ledge of ultimate bearing;
yet many infants have risen, have run,
since first the effort was engaged.
Rather, I think, say,
“I do not find the place to set my hand;
friend, brother, sister, world, help me.”
We are, each of us, parent as well as child;
eternal lessons and opportunities to such,
we bear intrinsically, so many gifts, within.
Let us give them and be willing to receive them, also;
even the bizarre and strange ones we do not fully understand,
set our hands, together, upon the ledge of our humanity,
our commonality, our shared aspirations to more and better;
let us be willing to find the ways by which such things become;
as slow as a crawl, perhaps, but filled with the hope of running.
How else shall ever we find the path by which to arise, to fly?