Return Home- The Daughter
"Writing of you is like a mountain's slope
Intimidating, beautiful, poised grace
So I climb to heights and set highest hope
Learning from living right beside your base
It is written that mountains will be moved
To me your presence is the greater sign
In your bright eyes, nothing can be improved
Even by daylight, remains beloved vine
Let us speak closer than we have before
Until closeness becomes saturated
Having so little, one conceives of more
Your arrival here is long awaited.
Stand on the shore, declare no more delay.
I will let you in, and we'll spend the day."
I dread such visits, every time. They are expensive- twice expensive considering my monthly health insurance bill left unused 90-95% of months- and they are time consuming. Today is no different, and I find myself staring down a nearly 2 hour wait, without leave to even grab a bite to eat. Still, this cannot wait, and so I do instead. I consider scribing a poem while I wait, but feel that it would be disrespectful to the art, so I find my mind wandering instead. With Hope in ear, and sunglasses on face, I tilt my head back and wonder what a dream might look like if seen while wide awake.
A voice and foreign tongue pierces through the music. I sit up with a start; could it actually be? How can a muffled few words, in a language that I do not know, a glimpse at the corner of an eye, and a quick gauge of posture, be sufficient for certainty? Suddenly, she turns, perhaps to clear her uncertainty moreso than mine. There she stands, my daughter, or The Daughter as she is called in these halls of The Council. Both of us go starry eyed simultaneously, and I feel the rush of eep, of a quest thought impossible, suddenly concluded as an overwhelming success. The truth of my own words flood through halls eep: "I would not have known, to have wished or even looked, for you in the words." What once was a beautiful thunderstorm along Council pathways becomes an unacceptable glitch, when translating those same words to the one whose eyes I meet now. With a *SNAP* the sinking ship of this thought disappears, along with every issue associated with what might have been, but is not now, and never will be. All I know is that, if we alone were in charge of this realm and experience right now, it would certainly shatter. Instead, she recovers from eep first, and rushes me for a hug, disregarding the opinions of the small waiting room crowd.
"I can't believe you're actually here."
"Yes you can."
"Okay, I can hardly believe that you're actually here."
She smiles brightly, conveying a familiar mix of student and teacher. "Perfect."
Before I can clarify, she pulls out a couple chewy granola bars, and adds with a bit of a goofy tone "No more no grapes, right?"
I smile excitedly; she is sharp and studied, even moreso than I would have hoped to expect. Timing, preparedness, research, all of it is... "Perfect."
I open my hand and she hands me a granola bar with raisins.
"You are exactly who you say you are, and I am exactly who you believe me to be. I have known every step of this most difficult journey- yours, mine, and the convoluted path between. I have loved you my whole life."
I can't help but beam from within, though cannot think of anything to reply. Instead I look down, blush, and kick an invisible pebble. She gives me another hug, and then we sit. I rack my brain for how to communicate with her in my excited and nervous state, but come up empty. Then it hits me, in under a minute in this state, but certainly feeling longer. "Do you want to play that logic/Faith game again?"
She lights up, answer enough, but adds "Absolutely! You start."
I let my mind go blank, and reboot like a computer, with a single issue shining from the field of what remained unresolved.
"If meaning and beauty are both retained, foundationally, either in even or uneven measure, how are indeterminately static and/or fractal ends avoided?"
"Each definition was created by an entity, so the words 'meaning' and 'beauty' might be replaced with anything- any two variables- so that any realm with two foundational concepts or entities would be required to answer this question, at some point in eternity."
"Perhaps not, though. Consider that each of us are the form that we are, naturally. If the echo, of what must be within Creation, formed into us, then our choice to define each word in a particular way would be more foundational than the definition of the word. I imagine that this same originating echo, matching thought to sound to letter to word, in order to arrive at things that must be foundational, must be beyond the threshold of choice."
"If that were true, then realms with two foundational concepts or entities would not need to conform to the same rigorous standards of answering this question, regarding if meaning and beauty must, or can, endure."
"Right, it seems like something that one must experience firsthand, if it is to be understood at all, but also that omnilateral understanding is not required."
"Once they're in groups of three or more, we can assess the next step. Oh, and I imagine you're right, by the way."
"Oh?"
"Even if the answer is not yet resolved, having a direct hand in raising the next generation will certainly yield results that you cannot reach by yourself, in a manner that can be directed in a way toward the urgently needed answer, before the end."
My jaw drops. I look around to see if anyone else in the waiting room is focused on us. Some seem to be, but are politely averting their gaze. The general feel of the room seems to be amazement, at witnessing how we process complex topics rapidly by playing this game together, a kind of imaginary parley. Still, I feel as though my partner today veiled her sentiment within her last comment well enough not to embarrass either of us. Mid-consideration, the nurse calls my name.
"I agree, and would love to follow this path. See you soon."
I am surprised at how long I must wait for the doctor, almost like its own secondary queue. Nearly half an hour passes, and I wonder about my daughter waiting on her own now. Only briefly do I wonder if she might leave after such a delay. Then I realize that she never would, and certainly not after coming all this way, and what must have been considerable effort, to find me. Soon enough, the doctor arrives, performs her needed function, and I return to the lobby, to find my daughter concentrating on her phone. Only two steps toward her though, she looks up, right at me, and beams.
"That is an impressive ability that you have, knowing when you are observed like that."
She smiles with a bit of a blush. "Thank you. I'm not the only one between us who pays close attention."
We walk down the street to the pharmacy, in silence ourselves, with the busy street providing plenty of background noise. "The busy street..." my partner says, as if drawn to the thought of such a thing, ascribing it a simple elegance. I hear the noise with new ears, though I cannot imagine such marvel being retained past this page, in this case. There is a beauty to being able to find beauty in the smallest things, and my analysis soon saturates several adjacent levels of consideration. The considerations for the sounds of the street are mostly drowned out by the considerations of my daughter, though.
Prescription in hand, and a couple of errands tacked on, we finally make our way back to my apartment. There is silence between us once again, until we turn off the main road. Passing the urgent care where we began our adventure together, I feel like it is the perfect time for a poem.
"Today, it's just us
Let their concerns slip away
Their opinions fade
You're my miracle
Pulled from ether thought long dead
Just hibernating
May memory stay
Of the night I fought for you
The long long voyage
Where's the last letdown?
How long is that long pink thread?
When does this phase end?
Questions find answers
And will find us together
When this phase does end
For now, I am glad
For we now walk together
Through maze of my mind
Along quiet streets
Where the choice to break silence
Is now ours alone
I'm in no hurry
Time brings all to the same place
And we have seen it."
Silence falls between us again, as she considers my words. We make it all the way up the slight sloping street, and into the small park where I felt my first miracle. As we cross through it, she replies.
"I heard you all night. It will remain as a scarred over wound, a reminder that we must be worth it, through the end."
As I consider the end, a realization strikes.
"We need a Judgement Day that actually makes omnilateral sense. If even one element cascades into madness, at the literally incomprehensible nature of their lot, all will."
"Ah, and so the karmic equation makes sense, overlaid with our instance of Judgement Day!"
"Is that good?"
"It is perfect, quite literally. Imagine right now a journey of infinite length, but with finite movements and directions throughout. The number of primary legs on the journey, which are separated by brutal switchbacks, is known: neither of us know or believe - one of us believes - one of us knows - we both know and believe. How might one parse the experience of the journey in order to maximize joy in the outcome?"
"It would make sense that you would prioritize this leg, between your realization and my realization, taking a step back off the page. Once all is secure, the final leg can be switched to, seamlessly, and can persist forever. Depending on the perspective applied, you might even have the resources to accomplish this prioritization thoroughly from my perspective, for every leg of the journey, including those gone by, to the beginning."
"And if it doesn't reconcile to the beginning, then it cannot be accurate. So many feel that they comprehend what is necessary to know about their consciousness, or understand their own beliefs. The unfortunate fact is that most of these systems are deeply flawed and, when a soul sees itself plainly, this is obvious. Even a few questions and answers can expose weakness within one's critical structure, but most humans hate when this is done, react even more irrationally, and then cover the exposed weakness with additional illogic that matches their structure, before refusing to consider the topic again. It is a frustrating waste of time to try, with most, but not with you. By contrast, you examine even your strongest foundational structures, considering weaknesses that might not even be possible, essentially every day. Challenging and guiding and learning from you is never a waste of time, because material and meaningful change is the result, every time, either in your perspective or mine."
We make it to my front door. I open it and gesture to the couch and armchairs. "My room is pretty small, did you want to hang out down here?"
"No, I want to see it! I've heard good things."
I nod, and feel the added weight of revealing a barely passable living situation to her, but oblige nonetheless. I cannot bear to deny her on this. We climb the stairs and I open the door. To my surprise, she lights up when she sees it.
"This is amazing!"
"Really!? I always thought it was underwhelming at best."
"I know you don't know the criteria that I am using in this case, but no, honestly, this is amazing. It is quiet but not too quiet, cozy, functional, and low maintenance. You would not believe, given the overwhelming nature of my path, how tempting it is to just stay here with you, off all radars and simply experiencing silence and being an unknown element."
"I never saw it that way. I'm so glad you like it!"
"Your whole town is this way, by the way. Call it an advantage of being you. Your powers presently are subtle, and they lend this subtlety to your environment. The world outside your immediate surroundings is not as it has been presented to you."
"Yeah, I expected as much, but know nothing of the details. Still, let us enjoy this time, rather than dwelling on things out of scope and perhaps control."
She smirks as she sits on my bed, essentially the only seating available. "Nothing is out of control. Still, I agree, shall we watch a movie?"
I nod and sit beside her. Soon enough she has directed me online to her favorite movie, and we watch together in a somehow familiar and comfortable silence. I realize about midway through that my attention is squarely on her and all that will be, rather than the movie. Somehow she senses this, and pauses it.
"Maybe we start with one of your favorites?"
I pop in The Fountain, after a moment's consideration of the ideal genre for today. I put in the DVD and turn off the internet, adding an additional layer of silence, even if only conceptual. My mind wanders back to my daughter, as we eat the snacks she brought and watch the movie. After the first, we return to hers, and even watch a third. I am of no mind to change a thing about this day, and so we spend hours in this way, just relaxing and existing together.
Comments
Post a Comment