The Sky is What I Was Trying to Tell You About

Some things bear repeating. Consensus requires this, and change requires consensus. And sometimes it is just good to be reminded.

I am an avid planner. Lately, my time in school has taken on the aspect of a boy balancing on his chair, shifting his weight back in increments of years; the approximate distance to the breaking point, and then to the ground, measured and re-measured continuously. It is apparent, with my back now on the floor, that the gravity plotting the straight path to the earth was imagined, and there is no equal and opposite force to lift the chair and myself upright just as naturally. In other words, no greater purpose can present itself to me with such institutional certainty as I will know how or where to measure an end.

So?

So, paradoxical as it is, I am planning to unlearn planning, or at least wrestle the force of habit into some position subordinate to the present moment (the true residence of potential, mysterious and wonderful)-- to let the statue of my-self be worn to sand by the sands surrounding, and to be taken by the wind.