Something

Beach Stones

Prouts Neck, Maine 

No matter where I go or what I do, I think that I’m something. In this sense I don’t have a clue about my own nothingness. It takes work, real inner work, to confront my nothingness, and most of the time that’s not present in me.

If I have a moment of real insight, I see that I’m not even close to understanding this question. I carry the conviction in me, unconsciously supported by everything I am and do, that there's something to me and that my life has a great significance that matters much relative to the planet and the cosmos. 

This is something like a single bacteria in my own body thinking about how great it is. It forgets that its power is only earned and exercised in context, in relationship with its brethren and the society of viruses, bacteria, and cells that it inhabits. Or, rather, more aptly put, it doesn’t even forget it; it never knows it in the first place.

Even the word ego is empty, because I use it to define a situation I don’t understand. By using it, I pretend I know something about the situation; and that already deceives me.

All of these questions come to a point in me and I begin to know that I know nothing; my helplessness is apparent. I ought to see this more clearly. It could help me. Real humility might be born of that; and real humility provides a gateway to conscience and remorse.

In the midst of this colossal misunderstanding which I live, it’s my duty to attempt to bring a positive force which most of my being resists in favor of its own conceits. Positive actions which are automatic and don’t result from a struggle are relatively worthless. It’s the moments of relationship and positivity which I earn by overcoming my resistance that matter. Every shred, every gram of resistance comes from my belief that I am something and know something. Convinced of my own value, I refuse real value and I refuse relationship. If this blackboard could be erased there might be a real relationship; at least, the formula for it might be scrawled in chalk on the surface.

Perhaps one might say that these are things to think about today; but, even more than things to think about, these are facts that need to be sensed by the grains of organic being. The texture of them needs to be felt and appreciated; the touch of the needs to be as real is the sensation of bark on the fingertips. 

The understanding of my nothingness could be a tree that grows in me. The nourishment that it gains from its roots and from the light that falls on its leaves are both distant from me where I am; I merely stand on the ground here and touch the trunk, which is strong and supports the enterprise from the center. 

It has already grown by itself; yet it lives a separate life from what I am, and I know little of its biology, its species, the creatures that live in it. 

The nothingness itself inhabits and supports a community; it is in its selflessness itself that strength can be found. 

with warm regards,

Lee

Lee van Laer is a Senior Editor at Parabola magazine.