Antonio Machado spoke it, a century past. Now I stand, amidst the hearth, in the car's embrace, among companions, and I ponder. I muse in shadows, beneath the cascade, and within the sanctuary. I reflect upon that elusive third realm, nestled betwixt existence and dreams. Are we living and dreaming, or are we mere beings, lost in reverie? Let us embark from here, let the boundaries unfurl. Each unto oneself.
In this juncture, I endeavour to traverse from mere existence and whimsical musings to the poetry of living and dreaming. To be present in this moment, to seize this life boldly, at times recklessly, solely for oneself. And to dream, to dream tales of the living present and those waiting to unfold. Lessons, moments, emotions – a mosaic to be built upon. Time, a companion in this journey, yet the "for oneself" eludes me still. I traverse realms entwined with family, kin, acquaintances, and society.
Norms foreign, rules imposed, stereotypes threading our lives from infancy to twilight. I justify my needs, expound upon them, as if the cosmos takes heed. And so, I drift with the current, day after day, into the morrow, actively dreaming without realizing. In reveries and wakefulness.
And for whom do we exist, truly? As Robert M. Pirsig queries, "What is good, Heather, and what is not good—must someone dictate these verities?" Must validation sprout from the external world? Nay, it must stem from within, from our souls, intuition, and minds. Let them revel, feel complete, and find solace within. For all comprehend – tomorrow is the sole uncertainty. Thus – Here and now.
Yet, let us return to Antonio Machado – what is this third entity between the dance of living and dreaming? Could it be the very essence of "here and now"? When posed this question, diverse responses emerge: death, passion, sustenance, love, panic's embrace, and myriad mundane needs of body and mind. I opine that which unites them is the tapestry of choice. The tapestry woven in life's loom. From the banquet we savor to the warmth of shared slumber, the nuances of love, and what shatters or uplifts our foundations.
The choice to weave a tapestry of beauty, to merely exist, or to dwell predominantly in the realms of dreams and fantasies. And should we elect to dwell, realizing our dreams and fantasies? Could this not be the most enchanting choice to make? The choice to love, whom to love, and the measure of such affections. The manner in which we express love to self and other souls. Whether love graces a solitary soul for a lifetime or fleetingly, or if the heart can embrace multiple affections in tandem. All is the tapestry of choice, woven within our inner sanctums.
To enact it as if it were the final breath, to bestow without expectation, or to weigh each circumstance and deed. The tapestry is in our minds. Solely ours to shape. The choice to compromise, to preserve kin, circumstance, or kinship, in reality.
How fortuitous are we, custodians of the myriad choices, solely reliant upon the sanctum of self. ?
The splendour lies in the absence of right or wrong; each choice metamorphosing into experience, lessons, the blueprint of becoming what is needed for ultimate joy. Does not every soul yearn for that – bliss?
It is merely that each soul forges the contours of that bliss through the choices cast upon life's canvas. Some choices caress, kindle, and exhort, while others stagger, equate to the earth, or rewind our steps. After each choice, flight and warmth may ensue, while others instill fear, reluctance to awaken, leaving one uncertain, adrift. Yet, in retrospect, meaning unveils itself. One simply must possess the valor and cognizance in their choices.
