Reverb 14: Day One: What Can You Say Right Now With Certainty?
“…There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely sobers us again.”
-Pope; An Essay on Criticism
What I know with certainty is that I am certain about nothing at all. This year, I turned 35, changed cities again and did my part to repopulate the earth. The first two were inevitable, the third? Not so much.
I can tell you that my 21-year-old self would neither approve of this state of affairs nor be able to fully believe that she was being fed a line of truth regarding this new baby; this being who has become proof positive over and over that nothing said with certitude can be held to interminably. In fact, the very idea of having children was so foreign to me, that even my 30-year-old self would have balked at this now matter of fact.
Certainty is for the young and new. It is for the intrepid spirits who, without experience of windfall or abasement, plow forward with heads clear of doubt or even a Plan B. It is a way of living; overshadowing and complete. Its town is peopled by conviction and sticky guns and it is deaf to your gentle words of wisdom and advice. Certainty is a loudspeaker with no volume control.
Once, I was certain of many things, but the passage of time has softened my edges and sandblasted my very form into something quite different and almost unrecognizable save my caustic tongue and obsessive search for an authentic experience. Down to my most fiercely held confidence, I have said goodbye, one by one, to the things that at one time or another, I KNEW with verity.
Certainty is not my pathway anymore. It has been replaced by an openness that I’m quite happy to let in. instead of shouting my truth loudly, I have begun to listen to the truths of others, and to let in the idea that just like the Pierian Spring, we would do well to drink largely and long for the most clear view of what is and what can be.