Monday, June 13, 2011

Imperfect.

The mad philosopher.

The preacher.

The wise man.

The fool.

I am all of these things, full of my own contradictions. My own strengths, my own weaknesses; but these things are my own. Thus, these things are me. While none of it is special, these layers are what defines us. The mixture, the primordial ooze of emotion, experience, and character. This is the soul. Sometimes filled with a bright light, only to be thrown back into darkness again. The layers and how you pull them together in your own way is what is unique. A point of view like no other. No, not a brilliant single snowflake, set apart from the rest, but a mutation of the same core. This beginning, this base, is surely the reason why we feel so connected.

We shape each other, and have a need inside to add a layer of ourselves to other people. To shape them into a fitting piece of the puzzle that is our lives. We may not get along, you might loathe and reject my layer, but had your layers formed differently in life we could have been the best of friends. The same is true for friends, had they been formed in a different condition we could have been the worst of enemies. So you may hate me, misunderstand me, hurt me, but I will always try to see what is inside. I will not judge your imperfections. I will love you at your core, for the core of us all is the same. Even if I shout hurtful words, throw fists, or shut you out, (as I am not perfect either) I will try my best to understand you. To marvel at the intricacies of the human condition. I invite you to do the same.

We might perceive each other as ugly, cruel, greedy, terrible, imperfect; but can you imagine a world without imperfection? Of a sameness that bound us all together in a perfectly formed puzzle? No debates, no pain, no conflict.. Without these things the good in life loses its meaning, its value.

I have dwelt on it, and it seems so terribly dull.

2 comments:

  1. And, without those mutations, the life would be boring as hell.

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