We don’t necessarily see the cracks in a thing. We don’t necessarily see the cracks in a being. But the cracks are there, aren’t they? In everything. As soon as formation begins, so do they.
We also don’t necessarily see how we contribute to their making. Nor do we always see how we open up a sealed one or make one worse with the slightest action, word, or the omission of actions or words. It sometimes makes me wonder how we get anything right at all — how any of us keep from imploding and crumbling — when I consider the absence of solidity in everything and everyone from this minute to the next.
It is raining in Los Angeles this morning. The water will seep into the fissures in the concrete, the fissures that I’m sure are a frustration to the person who smoothed the cement before it dried. It expands, it shrinks, damage is done. A failure of the material? A blessing in disguise? The natural and neutral order of life? Who can say. All I know is, weeds and flowers poke through to seek the sky and if they couldn’t, all I would see is grey.
Thank you Leonard Cohen.
Peace and love and happy Wednesday.