And it is dust all the way down. Fleeting, transient, moving, restless dust. We will not suddenly happen upon some stable molten core. Maybe the striking idea of our times is that the mass project of arrival (which modernity operationalizes), of seeking secure foundations, and finding true norths must now give way to the troubling fade of things.
Our vocation must now be that of learning how to live in the midst of the fade; learning how to honour the light of twilight; learning how to befriend our passing; learning how to grieve and fall apart; learning that failure is generative; learning that just because one is lost doesn’t mean one is on the wrong path; learning that the sacred is immanent; learning that to love is not to reach out to another but to recognize we are the other; and, learning that if we always had our way, there’d be no point to the journey. Maybe in learning to live here, right here, we unleash a spirited joy – the music of which escaped us when we strained to own it.
