Odd it is to me, that clarity is the result of walking through a fire and surviving.
The sheer mechanics are clear, but the selectivity is not; how is the distinction achieved between what is superfluous and what is essential? If it is lightweight, does that mean it’s less valuable? If it is flammable, does that mean it’s not important?
It seems to me that the light and transitory moments often yield something larger than ourselves. It might be the sight of an old man skipping down a street in the morning with his grandson, a sparkle of joy in the man’s eyes as the little one giggles. It might be the rustle of taffeta and the tap-tap of high heels as a crowd of partygoers rush to the apartment building roof to see fireworks ring in a new year. It might be the scent of beer on your lover’s breath sending you into memory of the sweet and breathless kiss that sent white heat to your head and desire to your limbs.
Are those the defining moments that constitute our essence, or are they merely food for fire?