All that could have been

Really feeling the span of decades. The clicking of time. The frittering away of time. The waste of time. Years looking forward to possibilities for the weekend, sitting on porches and watching, hoping, dreaming. And soon the discomfort of ages, the pivot to spot-check behind me as earth passes by, feeling its draft, the breeze on my neck. I jump and run out of lizard reflex, trying to not appear desperate, laughing at myself and pointing fingers inward for sympathy; haha man remember my thirties? oh man haha. And them twenties, sheesh. But these fourties, oh man these fourties i’m winning, right? right?

Really feeling the span of lost decades. The refusal to make a move out of closing any possibilities; defying definition to prevent inflexibility. Now stasis leaves me frozen. Never thought that not moving would leave me so rusted. It’s like the “saving myself for marriage” ideology of my teens glued itself down on every aspect of my adult attitude, and now nothing moves.

A fixed point can potentially move anywhere once it becomes unfixed. But a point in motion remains predictable in its trajectory. I’ve always abhorred predictability, see it as a handle of control. What kind of nonsense is that?

The kind of nonsense that keeps me motionless.

Which explains this website. Phaysis. Phases impending stasis. Stasis impending phases. The constant state of changeless change. I thought it was some kind of golden zen koan when I came up with the term, but now it’s a leaden stone on my neck. When will the next phase begin?

Published by Shawn

He's just this guy, you know?