Black White Grey

A she once told me that I thought only in terms of black & white, that in my world each decision I made boiled down to a & right & wrong, maybe she was right, perhaps I did think like that. Her view was as I see it now something she considered wider, more evolved, that between my polar opposites of black & white, right & wrong there was a sea of hues, every possible shade of grey, and that there, somewhere in amongst one of those myriad hues at some point or another she found her moment and her truth. But it wasn’t a static truth – in a sea, constantly moving constantly at ebb and flow her truth moved, floated in the stream, changing and moving. I disliked a world of greys, to me it felt like failing to take a stand, failing to act, having no principles. But as much as I have wanted a world with black and whites, with inalienable truths and certainties, or that she inhabited a world with meaning in shades of grey, these are one and the same, journeys in a realm of illusion.

There are no certainties, just illusions our minds label as truths, but, deep down in that place that some call soul, there often buried under the years, covered in dust and cobwebs, under layers and layers of thoughts lies the thoughtless land of being, of simply existing, no judgement, no reason, just essence. Our lives an unending journey along roads travelled by those who came before us, sometimes never realising that each journey is one in which the destination we seek is the place where we began.

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