Metrics

 Polarity will be the death of our presence. It costs us the very present we pretend we're grounded in.

I think polarity is one of the biggest thieves of our presence. We're always thinking in metrics: this is small, that is big. Language teaches us size, and immediately our perspectives shift. Our eyes become fixed, waiting for an awareness of theories that were embedded in us long before our eyes could see, and soon after, our tongues follow. Maybe that's where language fails us, or at least where its danger lies. Our minds become occupied with differentiating between what looks small and what looks big. The space between language and perception is so short, and it is often filled with distinctions. More often than not, we're measuring, comparing, and categorizing. But what if nothing is small and nothing is big? What if things simply are?

I think I like that field. A place where people aren't constantly chasing what is big and avoiding what is small because they "don't want to play small," as if playing small doesn't have a role in our lives. Recently, a friend mentioned that she hopes she won't one day wish she had lived the life God wanted her to live. She elaborated, saying that sometimes we make decisions that lead us somewhere, but compared to where God might have taken us had we listened, where we end up may seem small.

I replied, "Small is only small to you."

Another friend caught on and added to the point and said that your small may be someone else's big. But I think there was more to what I meant than that. Aspiring for a big life while perceiving your current life as small is such a tiring game of perspective, and it probably doesn't amount to even a quarter of the truth.

What I've found about perspective is that it is often set according to language. That's its premise. Without language, we're simply where we are.

And I think I want to aspire to that.

To be where I am. Present.

Without metrics, scales, levels, weights, or sizes.