December 19th, Fernie

From White Darker Than White

We are always falling. Gravity is always pulling us down, the strength of its tug in proportion to our mass. This is a metaphysical truth too. We are born into the climax of our light and we learn to stumble often and well. As we age our light leaves us, and as we begin to ease into oblivion, the pull begins to ease as well. When we return to darkness, there is nothing left to pull.

Here I am on a mountain. I watch as we all climb to the top, brimming with potential and quavering with apprehension. Then we simply fall. Sometimes we proceed with finesse and play with the elements as they fall from us. Other times we forge ahead with vigour, our momentum meant as ambivalence to what surrounds us, the mountains and the trees. But we are always falling.

It used to be that the trees held us on our way down. For better or for worse, in help or in hindrance, our path necessitated their participation. But we have cleared them away, trusting in however our own mitigations may bring us to the end. Now they only watch, their solitary, un-moving mass contextualizing our reckless speed. I didn’t choose for them not to be there; now I just have to go down.

I stand at the top and I plunge forward artlessly, seeking the end and the receptacle of my memories. I grow anxious with forgetting and loosen my grip. Near the end the slope has lessened but I have lost everything. So I climb to the top again...

From White Darker Than White