Figuring

I always thought I was going to "figure it out." I've got boxes and shelves full of books. I have spent much of my little life-time reading, looking to crack the code.

I've thought, and ruminated and meditated. I've filled my head and cleared my mind. I've worried and fretted, and then again, I've forgotten, denied and just rocked out.

There have been good times and bad times. I've got a few scars. I've accumulated lots of big and little disappointments. Like everyone else, I've lost people close to me. And like everyone else I've witnessed acts of madness, cruelty, kindness and beauty.

I have sometimes told myself it was all leading to something. Maybe there would be some accounting, or some kind of summing up, or there would be a lightening-bolt of clarity.

I'm not done trying to figure things. But it now seems a lot less essential. If there is a code, it's not really important for me to crack. Not sure if it's even crack-able.

I mean, I'm still totally fascinated and curious about what makes the world the world and what makes a human a human. But I'm a lot more comfortable with the idea that it is not all suddenly gonna "make sense." I'm not going to figure anything out. I mean I will figure out some things for myself, but there are big things that are not going to be "figured" by me.

I will live a life. And learn some things and forget some things. And that's really about it. And that's good and true and OK.