I Walk The Line...

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As I've mentioned before, I live in an almost perfect liminal space between the sea and the mountains here in Rachub, and I've always been drawn to such places and their associated states of mind. There is a psychological and spiritual balance in inhabiting a boundary: in being subsumed into neither one nor the other side of it. Balance. There are also liminal spaces with no actual physical aspect at all, of course, such as that boundary layer between the knowable and the unknowable; a space in which we all exist and in which we conduct our lives as best we can.

Mathematical certainty is a concept we all grow up with to varying degrees, and for those without a God in which to be certain, the apparent immutability of numbers offers a veneer of ineffability in which to trust their sanity. How else to cope with the existential trauma of a life without faith? In reality, however, faith offers little but the transubstantiation of self in death as one supposes occurs at Eucharist, or through whichever religious rite of which one chooses to partake. As for numbers, simply look around you at the abuse that these apparently god-like abstractions are put in the service of, via the machinations of the unscrupulous.

Uncertainty and unknowing are intrinsic to the human condition but shouldn't be perceived as limits or limitations: there is always more out there, until you're not: but one should try to leave more than one found along the path to those that follow. That which is created by human mind and hand will always be limited by its own present. That is not a fault, in and of itself, or of those that endeavoured to create it, but a virtuous soft vacuum that allows the room to discover and uncover further truths or half-truths or downright falsehoods in our own terms and our own image. Life is the liminal space between not-being and not-being. You take it and run with it as you will, but some will leave the world a better place and some won't.

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