Wherein Life Is Discussed

You know, there's not a whole lot I like about this area, I have to be honest. I don't like the smells, I don't like most of the people, I don't like the lack of connectedness. I don't like the size, I don't like the sounds, I don't like the weather. I don't like the mentality, I don't like the way it's expanding, I don't like the industry. I don't like the fact that it shuts down at 9 PM, that if you don't drink or own a boat there's nothing to do, that if you're hoping for a good time you're looking at traveling at least two hours in any direction to find entertainment.

But one thing I do like is this: I love how dark it gets. I love how remote it is. I love that, despite everything, you can get away with relative ease. I was out walking just a little bit ago and was left marveling at how alone I actually was. Nobody was out driving despite it being Friday night/Saturday morning, and Leap Day at that. Nobody was wandering the streets being vagrants or looking for transients. I didn't have to explain to any person who I was, why I was here, and what I was doing not at home. There were no drug-sniffing dogs, no gangbangers, no skaters with an attitude. Just me, the road, the wind, and the sky. And oh, what a sky it was.

The thing about here is that it doesn't get much precipitation. We're high desert. We get lots of wind, but as far as rain goes we're left pretty dry. So the clouds tend to be a bit on the pathetic side. I stood for half an hour just staring up into the sky, watching the thin wisps streak across the sky in an intricate spiderweb of chaos, without form or function, trying desperately to gather strengths and become a storm. It created an interesting illusion, where the sky was interconnecting layers on a two-dimensional plane, with neither depth nor substance to differentiate. There was one sky, the True Sky, which was deep black, a window to the heavens, constellations shining brightly against a backdrop of nebulous space, our arm of the Milky Way. And then there was the Cloud Sky, catching the light from elsewhere in the Tri-Cities, everything reflected off the great Columbia, giving the sky light but no illumination.

It was almost like two worlds, one that was black and deep, True Sky, and another that was so dark it was white, Cloud Sky. The two danced and twirled together, advancing, parrying, parleying, prying, guarding, attacking, defending, pushing, falling, like playing children or quarreling lovers. The distinction between the two is rarely more than an issue of semantics, really. I watched Cloud Sky change shape, forcing True Sky into submission in its own right, forced to give way... and then I watched True Sky punch a hole in Cloud Sky, creating its own version of shape and form and life, a smirking show of one-upsmanship. And I came to understand how this mirrors life in a strange, almost caustic way.

We come into life at a disadvantage, trying desperately to differentiate ourselves, to prove our worth over our 'better man', our brothers, our fellows. We do this following codes of conduct instilled from us since the moment we've left the womb, rules and guidelines that are somehow ineffable and unchallengeable. It's an awkward ploy, a facade of fragility, demonstrating in an amazing microcosm how far we have yet to go to to achieve any sort of enlightenment. A philosopher whose name escapes me put it best: "The wisest man is the one who admits he knows nothing at all." It is the acceptance of ignorance -- true ignorance -- that allows us to expand. A difficult task in a society that is determined to keep us bound and boxed, compartmentalized and forgotten. Like Cloud Sky and True Sky, we are at odds with each other, when really it is those around us that shape us and mold us into what we are, what we once were, and what we will become.