Linearity is a myth.
In Hollywood we are led to believe that the path from one corner of our life to another is followed in a singular track. Birth, childhood, teen years, first kiss, first love, college years, professional life, marriage, have children, raise children, divorce, new career, retirement, and the slow process of waiting for death. Pretty typical stuff, sitcoms and made for TV movies document it out so that we feel that some small portion makes sense. But none of it does, nothing adds up in the fictional world that is made for selling detergent, frozen dinners, or the latest acid reflux drugs.
Instead I would rather put forward the argument that life is lived with falling through concentric rings and holes. We entered this world through a moist circle that defined the inception point. From that moment onward circularity has maintained its dominance in all that we have done, whether it is in the patterns of thoughts that lead to actions, or blinking of ones eyes that capture the light that falls on our skin. The start of a journey invariable leads back to the door way from which it began. Each and every day we fall through one hole into a new state of mind that is linked to the present and the warm pool of memories in which we marinate and sustain ourselves.
The endless looping, turning inward and outward to the world that we see and experience, fills us with the richness that we know as living. We attempt to see a thing or be within a moment, yet in reality multiples of our self is contained in the envelope of its occurrence. The eyes of our childhood look out from inside, as does the teenager, the parent, the responsible adult, all vigilantly experiencing the event, contributing to its meaning, its understanding. We are informed by each and every incarnation that resides within ourselves, following the cues and road maps that they outline and reflect.
The fiction of linearity is a madness that prevents a mind from appreciating its own value and complexity. Perhaps with each small creation, a chisel and hammer can be taken to the myth, the delusion of straight lines or trajectories. The mission of an artist is to destroy the very notions of connections, or at least the ones that we would like to understand, allowing for possibilities and embodiments of an embraced life, one that is a constant state of being renewed, being reborn.