The Dance

The sun seemingly falls only to rise again. Music, the laughter of children, intellectual conversation, is but the rising and falling of sound waves we interpret as vibration. Ocean waves rise only to fall, withdraw, and rise again.

We fall, to the absolute bottom, only to pick ourselves back up.

It is the ebb and flow of life in its pure form.

But this motion is joined by one thing. My fingers are attached to hands attached to arms attached to my body which is governed by my brain, in the center. My fingers mirror each other on opposite sides of the body, but they are connected by a single source.

It is that which joins the polarity of rising and falling that gives us meaning. We give it names like God or consciousness or particles or life. Vague words whose definition we debate, but are only arrows that point towards something that can never be articulated by language and mathematics.

Rising and falling is the dance of something unlimited, microcosmic and macrocosmic, that we struggle to comprehend.

We dance while we search. Without realizing we are searching, without realizing we are dancing. Without realizing we are that which we are searching for.

From the ashes, like an eerie silent battlefield,

DP