Fragments at the base, here we go. To what extent is this true: that we live our lives like politicians whose campaigns naturally gravitate towards the undecided? Or, how about this: that what is sure rarely feels like a shore, and neither purely of the land or sea, we (oh, humanity) are best described as the foremost example of an “in between” animal. When landlocked, we tend to get key (or sea) obsessed.
Oh, what I would do for the undecided! The energy I am willing to throw around! What will tomorrow bring? It’s the uncertainty of the question that sets me out on my personal campaign trail, the knowledge that there is something yet to be won over, someone or something out there that is not an assured enemy and thus a possible voting bloc, comrade, lover, or friend. Here’s where we are really willing to open our energy’s wallet, sometimes impulsively, sometimes after a long, frugal buildup. Life purchases made with gusto! Which is to say, not products but experiences. Spontaneous transactions of energy, but this isn’t necessarily to say without an agenda either!
What ends our era of heightened performance - some kind of successful election? The finding of our station? What was once energetically expressed now must be dutifully maintained? Dynamism a virtue in the company of the undecided, but stability a better pivot among now confirmed constituents?
And when it ends, how long does it take until we yearn for another trail? To be someone uncertain among strangers, hiking with purpose for elevation, until a stage is found where it feels worth it to lavish and spend our energy once again?
Only undecided when asked to verbalize and describe. What if the self requires keys to unlock its various compartments, and these keys are scattered all across the world and no map exists at hand? In any case reading and diciphering maps takes time.