The Answer
I feel deeply and think deeply. I need the when, where, why, and how of everything with absolute clarity. The half-written, half-finished makes me squirm. An unanswered question is like an insect trapped in my ear that keeps buzzing until it dies or is extracted.
And so I try to wrestle with it, try to squeeze the answers out of things when they’re not forthcoming. Desperately holding onto any sliver of meaning.
A large table topped with a laptop, files, and clutter. A precise hand motion and it all ends up in a heap on the floor. I spread a large, clean sheet of paper on the empty table.
Now let me list down everything I know and everything I don’t. Let me draw a map, make a table, write notes from my research. Anything so I can mark it resolved and move on.
But few things in life have a resounding finality. It’s a loop that never closes, just continues on. And my sweaty palms can hold on, but can’t forcefully solder it closed.
Every so often my fingers get tired and they’re just a little slack, my breath is a little slower and deeper. Right there, in that space between the two breaths, lives the answer. It’s in the space that exists between the two thoughts, in the millimetre of space between my fingers and the thing I’m trying to hold onto.
It isn’t written, it can’t be written. It’s an answer that doesn’t have words, just an understanding that downloads as an encrypted message with strange symbols into my brain.
It burrows deep inside the folds of my gray matter as a knowing, a feeling, a quiet whisper that can finally be heard in the sacred silence.
Paired Listening
From the Five Part Body Playlist
