The new and the old

Perhaps there are only two kinds of living – living in the new and living in the old. In the endless depths of me lies a centre, a centre that is new every moment, that throws up new joys, new sorrows, new desires, new condemnations. From that centre I look with tenderness at my cat when he quietly sleeps by my side. From there I can witness quietly but not absently, the turmoil of another human being unravelling her tortured depths in my presence. From there I shed a tear when I watch Gandhi on screen take on the might of the British empire without shedding a drop of blood. 

And then, there is the old. The old clouds the centre. If the centre is depth, the old is the periphery and the clouds that fade away the new. If the centre is alive in this very moment, the old is based on what once was and is now remembered. When lost in the haze of the old, I respond to the people in my life on the basis of what they did to me and what I did to them. When I look into their eyes, I see not another human being in all his dignity and his sorrow, but a person from who I can derive security, or a person I need to secure myself against. From the old, I procrastinate by surfing the internet, rather than confronting what I am feeling deep within. 

Life alternates between the new and the old. The old is death, suffering, emptiness. The new is the fulfillment of life itself. At times for hours or days I may be lost in the old – perhaps forgetting that life could ever have meaning. At others the new can invigorate and enliven my existence. A play of light and shadow, old and new – life proceeds.. 

~ by tdcatss on August 26, 2014.

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