Translucent Strings

It’s never been more clear to me than now, that I don’t know who I really am.

There are translucent strings that pull me this way and that.

This I know.

And in knowing this, I have been able to slowly but surely learn my way out of complete and total ignorance.

Perhaps this is why I’m uncomfortable with the idea of “teaching” or giving advice.

Who am I to give advice?

There are people that would say otherwise. They would be eager to tell me that I do, in fact, have something to teach.

But my experience over this past year has endowed me with a perception exact opposite to this.

I don’t know anything.

The irony, of course, is that while this is true — it’s also true that I’ve never known more than I do now.

It would be a mistake to see this as humility. This is not me being “humble”.

Such things are a fake, forceful lowering of oneself in order to appear a certain way, or to pacify a certain fear.

This awareness is the result of certain, powerful realizations.

Realizations that have invested within me the power to see just how dense the fog in which I walk really is.

And occasionally, I spot one of these translucent puppet strings, amongst the grim and grey backdrop.

Right now, this is all I have to offer anyone.

Right now, this is all I have to offer myself.

I don’t get that excited about spotting such strings, anymore.

A part of me celebrates what appears to be a continuous disassembly of ignorance.

Another part of me looks at such things in awe and disbelief, making me feel small.

I look up, and wonder: Will I ever truly come to understand that which controls me? How can this be? This is worse than I thought.

Humans are unbelievably complex. And at times, this can be discouraging.

How can one be expected to keep crawling through the fog, day in and day out?

Luckily, it seems I have no choice in the matter.