Some of the steps on which I base my current view of reality seem false now. But even so, they were necessary to bring me here, to this height. This tread on which I now stand may also be inaccurate or plain wrong, but it is necessary that I step on it to get a little higher. Or a little deeper…
The past, my past, is not wrong. It is what brought me here and, as such, I am grateful. It does not matter that the vision of reality I once regarded as true turned out to be an illusion. What matters is that it lifted me and helped me get here.
Everything is an illusion. It’s a trick.The Illusionist
Like when my mother told me that everything was going to be all right. Those magical words dissipated all my doubts instantly, even if my logical mind still waived the facts in front of my eyes. I believed her words in order to move on. It does not matter whether my current beliefs are the truth or not. It matters that they are helpful to me now.
I am pretty sure that many of the things I have found to be true, my truth at least, will one day vanish like fog in a sunny morning. But right now they provide the grounds on which I need to walk in order to grow and find new ‘truths’, which will probably reveal to be as untrue as the ones I stand on now. And they themselves will be the ground for future learning.
As I climb these stairs, I can see some steps disappearing behind me. Others, however, stay right in place. I can’t predict which one will stay which one will go, but I do know that if I’m standing here is because I need to. My current truths may be ‘wrong’, but they are necessary.
A former me has given birth to the current me and, at the same time, has planted in me the seed of the future me. Something is animated within me. Something that pushes, trying to get out, like a baby braking out of a womb, a chicken out of an egg. I am the eggshell, the womb no longer needed, and I am also the newborn. The son and the father, one turning into the other as I walk.
A snake that gets rid of the old jacket and is now naked. To grow. With each step I give birth to a new me, discard the old skin and move on. A succession of deaths and births. Only the present exists, a continuous present.