Sun and Moon

What are we?

I won't ask that of you. You can ask that of you for yourself.

I ask that of myself, though, and all the time, too. Or often enough, when I get to thinking.

What I am?

Here's something to think about: Solaris and Moon.

Moon, first. What does Sam (Sam, I love that name, Sam! ... and I loved ... 'her' in College, she was such a panther ... I wonder where she went to) ultimately discover what he is? A person? What is that?

Who are you? Can you point to yourself? Can you?

Then ... Solaris.

Dr. Kris Kelvin. He had all the answers to make everybody else better. Or so he thought.

Except his wife, Rhea ... and why was that?

Because he didn't have any answers for himself. He just had his hubris, and he took it out on her, because he took it out on himself.

And then, he goes to Solaris, and he gets to confront what he really is, when he meets Rhea again, years later after she did what I seem unable even to try to do.

And she's there again, the love of his life, but can he just accept this gift and be happy?

Can I just accept this gift, my existence, and be happy?

What do you think?

... I mean for Kris Kelvin ... you leave me alone.

And then, well, he asks what Solaris — which is just a planet, you know, just in existence — he asks what it wants.

That's the insanity of it, you know? Assigning meaning to existence. Existence is. That's all that it is. It just is, there's no why or wherefore to it, it just is, and the agony, my agony, your agony, comes from saying, 'well, it should be ...' and you, and I, say what should be that isn't, and try with all our might to fix or to change what's there and perfectly perfect being there because it is, and there's no how or why or want to it, it just is, and we, well, I try to change it, and ... well, look where it lands me.

Look where it lands me.

What am I?

Solaris and that satellite farmed by Lunar Enterprises, Inc.

I am Sam. I am Rhea.

'There are no answers, only choices.'

I am nothing.

I am nothing. I am nothing. I am the space of existence through which events happen and time passes ... a context, ... a way of seeing things transpire, and the judgements I make as they have occurred. I am a walking shadow, not even form, not even substance. I am nothing, just the choices I make and the words I speak and write that make me what I am.

I am nothing.

And, so, you see? Do you see? How so, so happy I am when you make something of yourself? When you stretch beyond what you've said yourself to be, and become this something, this impossible something.

Because why?

Because, then, you've created yourself. You've created yourself from the nothing that you are (were) into something that has created this happiness, this relationship, this story, this hope, this joy, and where did it come from? Nowhere! Don't you see? It came from nowhere, because it came from you, and only you. You created this thing, and look what it's done, it's touched other lives, including hopeless mine, and shined a light, and given hope, and yes, you did it.

And I look at me, nothing me, and I look at you, and see you, and what you've done, that is, from nothing, created everything in this moment, and I'm inspired.

You, by your act of creation, by your bravery, have inspired me, and given me hope, to face this minute, one more time, maybe just one more time, and in that little bit of time you've given me, maybe I can do something, and give hope, and inspire, and save another life, and make somebody laugh or cry, and you did that, and I did that.

I know what I am. I am nothing. I am nothing.

And I know what I can be. I can create myself to be anything that I choose to be. No answers, I can just choose, and be it.

You know how I know this?

I've seen you do it. Over and over and over again.

And each time you do it, it's impossible, isn't it? It's so hard, approaching the choice, but then you make it, and it's so easy, isn't it?

And each time you do it, each time you choose, and create, o, so bravely, I am ...

I am awed. And grateful. And moved.

You've done the impossible, you know, when you dare to be. You've moved nothing, that is me, and made something that touched me, and moved me.

And you find, doing that, creating, from nothing, there's no 'me' to impress. You are creative, because you take on being creation, and everything comes from it, and everybody you touch takes it in in their own way, yes, and why? because they re-create it so it has meaning for them, but if you didn't make it for them, what would they have?

Sun and Moon.

They are up in the sky, just existing and being, not wanting, not caring, not meaning anything, just nothing nothings up in the nothingness.

And then there's me and you. Me: nothing, just a space. And you, and you create something, and you fill the emptiness that is me.

You will create, or you will choose not to create, and give into fear or ennui or the daily routine, the daily grind that will grind you down to the dust again after years and years and years of grinding on that grindstone, and for what purpose? to what end?

No end. No answers. Just choices.

I have to go pick up my car from the shop. Again. And then I have to make some choices.

As I have to do, every minute, of every day.

I love you.