Bottleneck at the Hillary Step

I am driven both inward and outward by other people who maybe were once close but now are far away but like to pretend they are still close, and people who were close but who half-willingly pushed me away out of fear that they might be sabotaging their relationships or their own lives, or social lives, or reputations, or pretty much anything, by risking getting dragged into my whirlpool of freakishly talented alienation and never getting back out. I think the truth is they know that if such a course were to be followed, they could never go back to their old ways – which they know deep down are suspect and surrounded by dubious ideals and stagnating over-easy answers to lifelong and fully unanswerable questions, and of course, other people similarly ensconced and embedded. Wedded.

The wedding is the symbol of something that has eluded me for the same reasons I have reflexively been evading it. I might muse about how it has been the cause of it, that I have been so idealistic and fiercely protective of my freedom and equally vigilant about my morality… but it feels like it will be empty lament in the end, since I just want something I cannot have without sacrificing things I cannot sacrifice… or so I may begin to believe, in this very hermit-like seclusion which itself may be a droning, looping cause-effect debate of the same nature [or nurture]. People may debate choice or proclaim a simple answer of going and finding and meeting people, but who they themselves admit that following one’s instinct is generally the best advice, and all the while making the maddeningly eternal leap of judgment that there is something broken that needs to be fixed. Inevitably they will become defensive when the reality of their own ignorant foundations begin to surface, like the French waiter in Monty Python’s ‘The Meaning of Life’ who takes us on a very long journey to his modest hovel in the countryside in order to explain the secret to living well – and in failing to do so adequately, becomes incensed and evasive, angrily stomping back to his house despite nobody even being there or talking to him. It’s truly one of those meta moments you cannot express in words as well – the person who gets angry in order to preserve his own fallacious and thoughtless way of life. So many times people just don’t want to think about such things, or do such things, or wait till their child is gone before they do – and then hide behind their children as proof of their self-worth, never willingly shedding their outer layers and living a repeating motif with the paradox of illusory change and improvement in the future. It’s a terrible tragedy to see up close, but if you want to, go and talk to any random person you know… nobody really, just somebody.