Shuffling

Inevitability, like a blind kitten or other mammal pawing it's way forward with no way of knowing precisely what is forward or why go there seems to be how most of us live. Stumbling in the dark, in a mist, a fog, or a soup thick with fragments of what you or others think you should be, with rare moments of clarity. And pawing forward anyway as if compelled.

I believe in universals, the universality of humanity, that all our colours, creeds, prejudices, almost everything we see, hear, touch of ourselves and others is mere skin, taught and taut, while 90% or more, much more, is aglow with hope, with potential for fun, for greatness even. 

I will no doubt go to my death still foundering on rocks and believe over and over I am undone, but I'm also grasping blindly for another truth I only sense is there, I am falling towards a much bigger hope that seems inevitable, written.

I heard an interesting idea today that entrepreneurs climb mountains not for what's there, at the top, but for the climb itself. That the climb is everything. Persistence, then. It's not the top of the mountain, it's the climb. I'll try to remember.