Winter

My feet are numb. The ink in my pen is so cold it won't write. I love when the literal so aptly matches the metaphorical, as through only the senses can we be truly reminded of the state of affairs.

The writer's block has been immense. The weight of so much to talk about, but so little to say. The actual experience of the past two and half years here has been somewhat different to the imagined. I had foreseen my work here to be a time of imagination and creation, of intellectual and social contribution. However, it has been hard work to survive the demands of my study throughout a tumultuous stray of personal events, much of which is taking a lot of time to process and understand. If such a state is possible or even desirable?

It has been a time of significant self doubt. I often, in line with the theme, doubt my capacity to be self assured and still be open to life's teachings. To stand strong in one's view of oneself, concomitant with being open to changing that view, seem almost contradictory states of being. Does what I know need to be constantly reviewed, as though, in the famous words of Socrates, "Εν οίδα ότι ουδέν οίδα." Epistemological nihilism, for just a little mouthful?

Would this be fine for the purely rational creature, one who has no foundation in emotional knowing, or intuition? Not trusting my intuition and relying purely on the evidence to unfold passively, the solely empirical, has led to dangerous places. Decisions driven by a weighted mathematical calculus damage the soul's work.

How can I know without knowing what befalls my eyes? I must to a large degree become comfortable with uncertainty. Events may or may not occur, and I can never know whether my preempting them prevented me from witnessing that which I was hoping to avert. I cannot control all things or outcomes, I am not that significant. To cope with this I must be prepared to acknowledge and accept myself, and embrace more tacitly and kindly my intuition. I must accept that "being right" in the moral and objective, calculated sense, may not "be right" for me. I have become aware that I have not accepted my own judgment and have been more answerable to the needs and desires of others, than to my own.

Confronting this has been frightening. Many are the nights that have been broken with strange, terrifying dreams. Seductive and silencing, awakening and alarming. I don't yet know what they mean but I awake feeling vigilant and exhausted. I'm tired of being exhausted and I might be ready to learn.