from the pen of icarus blake

Life is a series of deaths, the most devastating of which occurs upon deciding there is nothing more worth learning.  No opinions worth hearing that don’t validate your own, no more care for why the grass is green, for the stories the constellations are named for, for the sleeping giants in the museums.  This is the death that takes the Bible at its word and declares simultaneously that witches don’t exist and must die — the death that makes the Satanic Panic, sparks wars.  It’s the death that makes you dread Thanksgiving, robs you of the childhood memories of adventures in the woods and presents under the tree as readily as it signs the death warrants of people you’ve never met in far-flung countries you’re no longer interested in visiting or understanding.  It’s the death that won’t try the new restaurant, that rots in front of the news.  

Wonder and curiosity come innate in humans.  The earliest conscious experiences of every person, regardless of race or gender or capability, are experiences of interrogation.  Can I reach that shelf?  What does that taste like?  What happens if I put this here?  How many steps can I take before I fall over?  Endless, endless interrogation that any parent would warn you about.  A child asks “why” more often in a day than many people do in the last 50 years of their lives.  

Of course, “why” is only worth asking if you aren’t already set on an answer.  A genuine sense of childlike curiosity requires you to wait, to consider the response of the person you’re asking.  It’s not a gotcha or an accusation, as it may be in adult life.  A dead “why” is a locked meeting room between you and human resources, a living “why” is the smell of a lasagna recipe you’ve never made before cooking in the oven.

Given the state of the world, it’s easy to recess into dead “why”s.  We’re pushed towards the precipice from every direction — constant dopamine mines in our social media feeds, online gambling, political polarization.  Responses to a genuine “why” are hostile, but it’s important to ask still.  To raise the question and listen for the response beneath the anger and fear.  We aren’t children anymore, so we can’t let a curt or aggressive answer drive us away from the interrogation.  As adults, we have to keep pushing until the circumstances pushing us to die within our own heads give way, and the truth reveals itself.

The truth, like Santa Claus, is always found out.