Lately the battle between fluidity and rigidity has weighed upon my mind. I suspect it is the natural battlefield one finds themselves on as they enter old age. Memories of pleasures past, times of civility that no longer seem possible in many ways. 

Being one who is prone to analyzing, I have given much thought to how much of my memory is tainted by bubbles I lived within. Tainted by the gift of illusion that can be snatched at any moment by outside forces that are no respecter of values that contradict its goal. A graphic example of an illusion being lifted comes from the movie Instinct, in this scene. If you have little ones about, you may not wish them to view the scene.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXi38hV9zvQ


Life is movement, creating a constant displacement of the old for the new. The passing of the old likened to the death of a thousand cuts as the heart longs for what can never be again. People and places changed, dying. Constant changes, both in what is treasured and what becomes. Hence the sage advice that the successful (businessman, warrior, etc) is fluid, changing to accommodate the current illusions to maximize ones utilization of it. 

Yet, the quiet analyst inside can't be dissuaded from the truth. The truth that there was a consensus that doesn't exist now. One that allowed for privacy, one where civility was expected despite ideological/political differences. One that demanded fact and dignity rule the day, once the light of public scrutiny held it within its grasp.

Men were treasured in those times, not described as toxic and unnecessary in the shaping of their children's being. The idea of being able to spend your hard earned money without government tracking and need for approval wasn't questioned. Mandatory this or that was for the most part unheard of, as the illusion of freedoms and rights was expected by the majority in the public discourse. 

I can remember as a youngster, when I first began my martial arts journey. I was appalled at the very idea of kata. It may have been practical for farmers who were prohibited from practicing forms of self defense, but it wasn't the most practical way to train for combat. Disallowing for size differentials, they also did not adequately train one in the often erratic ways individuals will move when pushed or pulled upon, the way their weight will shift, etc. Their rigidness was impractical, my instincts told me. Surprisingly now in hindsight, many years since I left that environment, my appreciation for them has grown. It has its place for those who wish it, despite what the man of my impetuous youth believed. 

There are so many things, people, places I could name that will forever haunt me. Haunt me as they will never exist again, taunting as the quality of most things that become their replacement fail to measure up adequately in my estimations. Yet, there were other bubbles in my youth. People who were oppressed. People who became subjects of terrible experiments by those who believe they own their fellow men and women. Whole groups of people corralled as if they were part of an expanded mouse utopia experiment. It doesn't escape my notice that for those groups who were forced into a different illusion bubble, their remembrances will be different. And yet, somewhere within all of that, surely they too hold their treasures from the past that haunt them as well. 

Given there are draws to both ideas (rigidity and fluidity), it is no surprise that this initial post meanders in its initial attempt at clarification. If the duality of these extremes were concise to me, I wouldn't dwell so much of late on it. I will be writing more on this in the coming weeks, casting light upon some of the treasures I adored from my past. Perhaps on some of the things I found repugnant as well. 

It seems to me after much observation and study, that we are cursed to always look backwards saying goodbye to the people, objects and places we love. Probably why one of the main pitches of an afterlife in many religions involves an idea of a rigidity in perfection. Even the war Arjuna faced as he saw all he loved arrayed before him in battle was to prepare him for the loss of what he held dear. An attempt to explain why it would be alright, despite the pain in his heart that screamed it wasn't.