Deconstruction

The dust has stopped settling which leads me to think that deconstruction is a process of transformation instead of a momentary event with a clear cleavable beginning and end. Walls that made rooms into aloof spaces now fall and bridge an inexistent gap that has puzzled me into mistaking reality. This gap, the line that separates the two innocent dots in the obelus, isn't really there, despite appearances. They sure can be deceiving. Or rather, my mind has interpreted it as a sign for division. After all, I haven't figured out how to divide by 0, and I'm no calculator.

The deconstruction of the room may, at first thought, lead me to think that there would be ruins left in the aftermath. Like the ruins of Roman amphitheaters, or the Greek Parthenon, or the remnants of Machu Picchu - places where people have been there, done that, then left whether by force of will, force of nature, force of obliteration or another force entirely (?). But it's not quite like that. The walls that fall (probably similar to the ones Beyoncé sings about in Halo) do not crumble and leave a mess then be abandoned without clear explanation. Their demise gently filter light in from the other side(s), so as the process occurs, more and more streams of light penetrate the widening crevices.

Forget the symbolic imagery of hope. Walls crumbling down is not an invitation for me to know that I can make changes in my life. It is beyond that. The deconstruction is a freeing of energy, of me, from the walled room of my mind. It is a release of a songbird out of two cupped hands. As the fissures burgeon, I reconnect with Being.

What a fantastic opportunity this is, to awaken and experience Life as a free man.

Remember those walls I built
Well, baby they're tumblin' down
And they didn't even put up a fight,
They didn't even make up a sound.

This deconstruction, I realise, began when I first constructed walls to keep myself from getting hurt as a child. An experience inside a box is not authentic, is not total, because it specifically excludes what is outside, even if it is rain. Thus, the fight for survival has been my search for Life. Amazing how it's been here all along and I never really noticed it until I became so asphyxiated that I had to punch a hole in the wall. This is the door, another hole is the window.

Sometimes, I sit at my desk and look outside. The greyness of the firmament is there, and we both cry. Rain is beautiful.