Daily Tangle 1.9.17

The construct of life is tenuous, individually, collectively. Like hurling down a highway at 75 miles an hour, hoping everyone else will obey the rules we said we agreed on. Some things always seemed to be built on whispers, but these days it seems more like sand. Or badly mortared brick. In the shifting and collapsing there is so much noise that the metaphors are all mixed, showing just how approximate they were too. Since the first human picked up a tool and drew an image of their prey and sustenance on a cave wall, we have been making our stand saying this duality is how it is; that that is the magic, that agency outside of us, and this is our selves. I've studied science, and I even understand some of it, and I have always felt that I can't separate any of it, we're all magic. It's just a whisper that is getting lost. That's all I've got to hold on to.