‘Dams and settlements are worth nothing if the source runs dry, and the source runs dry if the management is poor. At the same time, the source is worth little if it keeps spilling, splurging, flooding and swamping. Proper flow is everything.’ ~ EON
There is a river that runs through the universe, through which the thrust of life is expressed. Whatever flows through this river, avoiding the splinter tributaries, remains on the path. Follow its differential course and you go a long way.
But the river is treacherous. Stray off course at any point and the precious current disappears. Lose bearing or concentration for a brief moment and the flow is gone, giving way to a stagnant cul-de-sac.
Far from aimless, this treacherousness serves an important function. It splits the world down to navigators and settlers, whom it delineates in a very simple way: hang on vs fall behind. Those able to muster the swell of the current do so by riding it cleanly, staying afloat, or, if lucky and extremely patient, by churning inside its tumult, billowing through. One way or the other they hang on, enduring its many challenges, advancing to the beat of its surging current.
The ones who falter along the way are not as fortunate. They grab tight and cling on, desperate to negotiate the flow but, lacking the skills or ability to do so, they give in to the pressure and fall away, taking refuge in the ponds of settlement.
Having broken off from the swell and heave, and not willing to consign themselves to oblivion, these washed-up navigators carve out their little niches and wait, they wait for the current to swell, splinter and spew afresh, in every other direction. A flooded field will take them places. It lifts them up and lets them float all the way into a new current but their wish to lead a life less tumultuous and more settled compels them to do something drastic.
They enter the current and wait patiently for the next wave of navigators to crash and wash up. It’s their cue to step in and take charge. Time to tame the surge, dam up the entire stream to safeguard all future activities in the area, take charge of the surrounding land. Up come the architects and engineers, the tradesmen and craftsmen, eager to assume control of the current, to manage its circulation and oversee its function, looking to become the center of attention, the tap on the pipe, the resource of the growing world. They want to command life from their chosen location via their prescribed nature and with the authority of a god.
It works. The world conforms to their rulings and rations which, when applied properly, result in great outcomes, benefitting the land and everything on it. The magic of the gush gives way to the ingenuity of management, and for a while everything is good.
Alas, humans are a fickle bunch, as are all beings that seek to supplant the wisdom of ages. Gradually and slowly the management begins to falter, to unravel and break apart, causing spillages and leaks. The arrested current can’t be contained for much longer. It roars and rumbles in the depths of storage, ready to burst forth again.
If the flow is not restored promptly and the current is prevented from surging back out, if the management is improper, or dated, or out of touch with reality, the outcome is bleak. The waters become depleted and the system begins to wither.
It’s a Martian arrangement. Nothing is more repulsive, regressive and final than the dry air of calcification. A tiny whiff and the windpipe turns to stone, and the sky cracks, and the dew turns to mineral and the spirit turns to dust. Life evaporates, leaving behind a desert, an eternal monument to vanity and failure.
The current has no room for errors. It’s the sine qua non to intelligent life. Navigate it with courage, if you can, and settle around it with care, if you falter — and manage it with awe and foresight at all times. It’s more important than you. You need it more than it needs you. Disrespect it and it will destroy you, one way or the other.
Intrigued? Watch this space for more.
From the collection of writings EON: THE ANGRY COMING OF AGE