I don’t know

“I don’t know where to go from here?”

Do we ever really know?

From what direction or compass are we supposed to take our bearings from? Maybe a constellation that burned out long before, and yet we haven’t gotten the message of yet, or from the entrails of a sacrificed fowl, its intestines still gently pulsating in our fingers as we hold them gleaning meaning.    No.  There is no star nor throbbing thoracic organ that defines the direction one should take through this life.

The contention, or should I say tension, is the nanometer of distance that exists between yourself and the surrounding world.  Something ancient and unknown, deeper even still than the DNA building blocks that direct the composition, sits something yet identified.  We have no tools, probes, forms of analysis, or spectrometers that can make heads or tails out of what pushes and compulsives us to follow one direction over another.   Sitting just outside of eyesight or earshot, it carries on day to day, taking care of the tiny details that compile into the macro thing we call our life.

Perhaps we should call them, it, the guardian of life, the DNA nothing more than some clumsy form that like a childish stack of lincoln logs or legos, creates the toe that stubs itself into the coffee table, or the arm that accidentally bumps against a door that was not fully unlocked.  The spirit of the machine, the password, that whispers day in and day out itself, unrecognized like some undiscovered planet on the outer reaches of the solar system.  And yet, we struggle, despite this unknown thing working, purring within us, within every single cell that has ever existed, ever will.

What comes next?  I don’t know.  Only you know.  Only you can decide.






About Sarah Seager

I am an artist that works and lives in the wilds of Los Angeles.
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