Things change, move on; drift and swallow, squat and lurch.
And to be caught in the moment of despair, the one in which all hopes and dreams are perched on the ledge of that exact second well, well… , that’s akin to suicide, and to falling back in with <insert escape hatch here> (drugs, work, sex). Because those things are the supposed solution to the moment, and we don’t need to solve the moment.
We don’t need a solution at all, but rather a way to accept the present, to skate on the razor edge of time, swaying, for all of existence. And what no one can tell us is how to get there, because there is no roadmap, no why, no how. Logic cannot direct us, say to “make a right at the cow”, because logic only knows one way: logic. Concrete directions that can be given to everyone and can work for everyone, if followed.
Finding the moment, finding oneself, involves something bother bigger and smaller than logic. Something that both is contained in and contains logic – a small seed from the tree of logic that grows into a large bush of intuition with unfolding flowers that contain stamens of logic, deep in the recesses of it’s branches.
You don’t understand what power is! The furnace doesn’t turn off the thermostat! You want the heart to decide to KILL the brain, but it can’t DECIDE to, only the brain can decide. Don’t forget though, it gets its deciding power from the heart!
– John Barth in Giles Goat Boy