Looks Past Razed Plans Past Looks
Thinking about how all of our plans can become so tentative instantly, I have always suspected that time is our friend and enemy simultaneously. Change, resilience, and flexibility are the parts of our lives that allow us to adapt and eventually even thrive in new circumstances. So, on we go, making new plans with an eye to the clock, the sky, our companions. What, if any of this, can we expect will reach a state of completion? How much will remain undone when the next set of challenges rolls us around a blind curve? As inevitable as gravity is for us, we strive for the buoyancy of the water-bourne and yet make contingency plans for a further environment we might inhabit. The plans become physical reality in an almost constant struggle of mind over matter, while we insist that something must be appended to each original, including ourselves. A round of days, weeks, and years fold into decades as we look back at sketches for the future recorded in the mental notes of our planning stages. As the next day opens our eyes, we check the lists we’ve prepared and begin to add to the edifice. The scaffolding alone is a breathtaking structure, an invention we design and redesign as the plans change and newer goals evolve. Some nights when we inspect the darkening profile before us, stretching for years toward the sky, we can imagine that perhaps tomorrow we will be finished. As we close our eyes to dream, an illuminated sign appearing at the roadside, “Next” might be the time or place we turn off.