Now, We Stand Still

It is a question mark,

That makes the curves for skin,

And slowly spills words within.

It sets a name,

And teaches the lips to say it,

Again and again,

But,

Only in the proper way.

Consideration has become a key word for me these days. I find its potency in every dialogue, and in the silent art of observation. It is delicate in its meaning and has patience and empathy as its branches. It helps me see the habits forming and, again and again, beckons me to breathe in and out.

There is a compulsion a fervent need to define, to give quick forms to objects, situations, people, and places.

The poster is red.

These lips are brown.

These people are loud.

This heart is black.

At the end of a definition is an almost certainty that we have assimilated and can now comprehend the entirety of the matter at hand. It could also be a person. And with this assumed knowledge, we dive into moments, we react, and draw lines and words with all of that certainty.

Yet we must self-reflect and remember that, even as complete as our form in the mirror appears, we still reflect with doubt, making space for ourselves despite all of the clarity. Even at times when we risk not evolving, or embracing change.

The greatest truth is this: even our strongest perceptions have proven to fail us in certain moments.

I have watched two strangers eloquently give each other names from a distance. I have seen sneers and conclusions passed in the first few seconds of conversation, with those snap judgments echoing throughout the entire encounter.

The possibilities, perhaps, would have been endless if they had embraced consideration, if they had allowed for essence to unravel and souls to bloom. If only they had reacted and discovered in the light, with sight.

It is the greatest of sins and the worst of flaws to pass judgment while being clueless or lacking perspective. Another word I relish: perspective, and its call to always see both sides of a coin.

The core of life is wrapped up in mystery. It is only seen where there is patience with a comfortable appreciation of layers and contours and where one is able to react from a place of understanding, from feeling. The very same art that makes for beautiful poetry.

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We face a threat an imminent disaster of a distorted society where people are given a mask and are never truly seen. We can also dissect from within a moment, where our bodies burn in rage, or our hearts call for a certain path, or course of action.

The gift to pause and reflect to deliberate and ponder makes for clear choices, well-weighed and informed decisions.

The need for consideration was beautifully expressed by Amor Towles in his brilliant novel A Gentleman in Moscow:

“By their very nature, human beings are so capricious, so complex, so delightfully contradictory, that they deserve not only our consideration, but our reconsideration—and our unwavering determination to withhold opinion until we have engaged with them in every possible setting at every possible hour.”

Does spring not make a thought for summer, while summer lends a hand to spring? A patient and purposeful exchange, very carefully made and believed.

The core of life is wrapped up in mystery. It is only seen where there is patience with a comfortable appreciation of layers and contours and where one is able to react from a place of understanding, from feeling. The very same art that makes for beautiful poetry.

This pursuit of thoughtfulness must be steady and consistent. And the outcome could be delightful discoveries, an assurance that we are able to look, and look again.

So, let eyes meet with kindness, and with blank sheets scribbling as the clock ticks and time passes seeing only for what is, and patiently peeling off the layers. Or withholding, and only giving form when it is fully known.

Names fall,

From a steel tree,

Leaves stiffened,

Blind to the wind,

Barks hardened,

Yet alive.

Names fall,

And did we hear you,

Say them all?

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