If you have trouble identifying with a school of thought, religion, or ideology, perhaps you can find your home here:
Do you belong to the school of more, the never enough? The school of why can’t the best aspects of the sunlight and shade, fruit and root development, comfort and stimulation, past and future exist all at once, in prime persistent perpetual perfection. The yearning for this enduring state of mind is what drives us and tortures us simultaneously, excites our stagnant souls from the bedroom.
The school of more is boundless, shapeless, formless. Though it may go dormant in the dullest of days, it awaits around the corner, like Hawking’s sleepless nights before black hole revelations, like Kerouac’s jaunt to mosquito filled Mexico, like your future self beckoning your presence at the table of forgotten dreams.
More marks your moves like an inescapable shadow. Try defying the rhythm, settling for a daily routine, creating an inconsequential secondhand sculpted life, and you’ll find More’s oncoming waves deliver striking blows rather than a soothing caress. More circulates blood around the body, connects the soil to your sustenance, the crunching leafs to the planet’s axis, the weight of a feather to the speed of sound.
It is more that has followed and pushed me from suburban sprawl, to the tropics, to farms, to the ocean, to the mountains, to the forest, to school, to philosophy and film, to out of school, to the east, to discover love, to science and history, to religion and the brain, to today. It is more that ties this all together, and more that pushes me away from the present into the realm of the obligatory ‘not here.’
More has moved me back into the land of seasons, into academia and a garden of overlapping distractions, all en route to decomposition. And now, more has driven me to wanting less. To shrink into smallness, to avoid mistakes, to be at mercy of the hands of fate. More has shut me up and contradicted me, and whispers and taunts. More muddles distractions into reflections, observations into interactions and intentions into fruition.
Though it is more that keeps us going, I find that it is in less that we begin to feel whole..
—
"You cannot control your laughter.
You cannot control your love.
You know not to hit the brakes on ice
but do anyway. You bend the nail
but keep hammering because
hammering makes the world.”
You cannot control your love.
You know not to hit the brakes on ice
but do anyway. You bend the nail
but keep hammering because
hammering makes the world.”
