A rant: Choices and Sidetracks

(I wrote this while watching the other adults in a party room at a bounce house while my daughter was playing at a friend’s birthday party.) 

We do not choose the nation we are born into; no more can we choose our genetic line, disposition to disease, aptitudes, or impediments.  We are genetic byproducts of the accumulated coital decisions of ladders and ladders of conjoining specimen.  The results cascade into the fibers of the capability we utilize.  The framework of what we so often misconstrue as self is entirely random to our conscious choice, yet linked to the burden or gift placed in our palms.  

For morality is only partially learned.  The playground of choice is most entirely internal.  We may be shifted, marketed to believe the hells or heavens of our home life to subvert this autonomy.  Despite the wreckage one must wade through, there is always another or has been another or will be another with a more arduous journey.  It is not the elevation of lowest or highest upon this ranking of difficulty, but the recognition that the potential for our initial placement or slide upon our journey to occur or have occurred that is crucial.  

These bodies and descriptions are but mirages truncating our search to be enveloped in our amorphous possibility burrowing into our identity.  When we release our beings from such latching facades we enter a joy and somber humility of processing true happiness, true pain and true empathy. 

The sidetracks become not a pacing away, but dissolve into opportunities for sight of who we are, of who our brother or sister is, of how we can bear witness.  This is the grand platform of acquaintance and the exit hall from estrangement.   

We greet in this. We find pliability of definition, universality and peace in the dance of stomachs and minds escaping the confines of this day, century or eon.  We peel back our conceptual iteration of learning as if revealing a fresh nuance to ourselves is creation.  This is but vision of what always was, witnessed by our allowance of intrapersonal freedom to see he as me and she as him. 

This is the salty-light of time curing the animal muscle of vitality, of one being fueling another conceptually and completely anew in the nutrition of a singular notion of the now.  In this speck we are in a ballet of self holding self, exchanging the lead, gender, limb and physical relation of species to be universal creatures.  Crawl within you to find me.  We shall be this way together, dancing.