Tuesday Morning Ramblings

Ambivalent Ambition

What have I done?
There is something to be said of an ambitio us ambivalence. The scales of justice consciously brought forward in the presence of the most naturally simplest, and infinitely common of decisions. Should you or shouldn’t you be attracted to the girl at the counter? Or more precisely: are you or are you not attracted to the girl with the blue-green eyes that sits behind the desk which upon rests an extension of her personality, her life, and the proud parts. It’s safe to say that the prouder we are of an aspect of life, we are equally afraid of its opposite.
What, though, would you do if both scales remained even? One equal to the other. Positive and negative in a symmetry only acceptable in myths, religions, and folklore. A close symbiosis of thoughts weighted in no particular direction. What would you conclude if there was no obvious direction, no right way? Conscientious ocean waves are meeting doubtful shores.
What can be said of an uninvited ambivalence? The difference between an amnesiac society and a modern, enlightened, industrial society. The unbidden ambivalent accepts both arguments and feels both sides. Like a hand laid on ice experiencing heat. Contradictory and duplicate.
I myself see footprints in the snow not as an outline alone in its particular perfection, but as a disturbance to yet another perfection: an outline separating two shades of light, two shades of dark. I see the outline. I can do nothing but focus on the outline. The framework expands when you concentrate on it. That’s how it starts, always a little at a time, then grows and grows. Then the thinness of the outline expands. The lone seedling lucky enough to find fertile soil and sunshine. The roots that sustain an unsolicited ambivalence. My ambivalence.
Romeo and Juliette; the cost of love. The judging of Paris; yourself at a cost. So much is the same, and yet the differences are how they are understood. Romeo loves Juliette and Juliette loves Romeo. Paris loves his inevitable option. I’m sure you are focusing on the differences, maybe your not. I am trying to, but the counterweight is a powerful force. As powerful as its reverse.
Forwards and backward are only relative. Subjective from the point of view. Like how you feel while hearing a song that brings to mind both sides of a distant memory.
Salt and Pepper? Salt or Pepper? Fish and chips or a cheeseburger? Booth or a stool at the counter? In between stools or- never not at the end. The middle of anything only leaves us aggravated. A balanced teeter-totter is fun for no one on either side for very long. And that ‘very long’ is simply amazement leading to a conclusion of wanting away from it. Balanced, we’re told is a respectable attribute. We respect the concept and damn the person who utilizes it in everyday life, or at least if you could measure such a thing, laughs at them with the up or down perspective of one on an unbalanced teeter-totter. Ones who have a place to go that is either above or beyond; ahead or behind; winning or losing.
It was an accident!
That is all; A fluke just like the one that led me to this truly indecisive mirror of water. How I would like to say that the reflection presented to my eyes was an improvement to the original, but I knew otherwise. Neither was either, after all, what seemed perfect could be improved by the wind concerning the reflector and the reflected by the reflectee.
I only react, no matter how original I assume I am.
However, what if the water was now the source and its image the truth; reality. The wind once again changes both. A pebble changes reality, changes everyone, every point of view, every action, and every reaction. I think Vonnegut called them ‘leaks.’ Reflections; although he was referring to mirrors, is not water a natural mirror. The first mirror to human eyes. The first parallel to human experience. The mother who gave birth to identity is water — the first reflection of the self.
I know me. No reflection needed, ever. Who I am is her and me — that caring individual who enjoys the same time, in the same space, as I enjoy.
Two trees are waving in the wind at the edge of a pond — this truly ambivalent mirror of water that ripples from a sinking stone. I like gravity-gravity is not forgiving. A ship made for the tensions of the sea alone on the endless expanse of the beach — Stranded, helpless, secure in its situation. Wind my shift, the earth may rock, but only water can release a meaning.
Nonsense. What is sense after all?
Music, I mentioned music, didn’t I? I believe music is a unique mirror that requires a decisive view. A gallery of the aggressive. The confident. The passing endeavor to ride Pegasus; while temporarily, very meaningful to all who hear it. In our own way. Each a pool of water. Each a tree. Each a reflection. Each complete in an incomplete way. Always looking underneath the stones that we happen to come across. What do we hope to find? What new revelation will make me answer?
Why is this one different from the other? Should I even ask? Do I care either way?
That is what they tell me to say. Just between you and I both sides-all sides make sense to me. Every angle to the shape is exactly where it needs to be. Every point of view makes sense from that point of view. Morality-morality is the prism projected forth from an external source.
I believe. I understand. I know where I am, what I am doing, and where I am going to end up. I have the book. I live by the rules. I accept the losses I will pass by and the winnings I hope to experience. I believe without validation-without confirmation
I do have a question.
Who are you? Answer: A paradox of reflection. There is something to be said of ambitious ambivalence. Do you think the stone statue adorning our great courts, with her scales in one hand and sword in the other is the origin of such an embodiment? Do you think about the blindfold? Did you notice it?
Leave, adapt, or perish.
Damn these eyes for looking into a reflection! What balance of scales should I care about but my own? Me, myself, a mirror like you, attracts only the gaze of those similar in position. My right hand to your left. My laugh to your laugh — my tears are reflecting hers.
Our history-our past. The reflection of my time is brought on by the reflection of this pool of water that I now stand beside. The trees surround her. Swaying as they will. Green playing with cobalt blue, blue amused by the play of the green.
The pool? The water, merely showing the actions, revealing them without opinion, without praise lack of criticism and lack of omnipotence.
A glancing hope of finding a pattern within the chaos that built the blue. That built the green. That made me out of chance and gave me the opportunity to create my chaos, my chance. My chaos, my chance, has presented my eyes with this final pool of water. This messenger of God. This courier of imperial fact. I give myself to water-to death.
Stop-my existence screamed.
Do it-my existence screamed.
My existence alone screamed those words, and I was in my ultimate reality now. Alone with my oneness for her to look upon.
So I thought. I still like to think that.
But, that great ‘do it’ in the sound of my ears was not mine alone. External had met internal in a beautiful union. A beautiful union. There has never been a merging of two to make a better ours. A mosaic torn apart by history brought together again by uncertainty. By chaos. By chance.
By luck-by her.
There she stands. My eyes lifted from the reflection now could see no green, no blue. Only a beauty that was new upon new. Most grotesque among the ugly. The end, the beginning, the joke, the laugh, the past, the future, the weight, the hope, the starry sky printed on the first reflection.
She was there.
There was external symmetry with the internal.
The scales were even as only she could balance. Gravity-I like gravity. Did the world move forward or did I lean backward?
The stone was latched tightly, and depths below will be my judge. I go first onto the scales of life with her sure to follow. How did we get here? Why have we chosen these depths? What will this mirror of water have to show at the bottom?

About G.Edward Smith

A stranger in a strange land...
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