Dwelling in possibility

Each one of us has to be a seed and each one of us, in our way, can bare fruit of every type; projects, friendship, reflections, intuitions, kindness…

But to be a seed is not to be viewed so lightly. A fundamental condition is needed. Lets try to understand what that condition is.

At times we consider ourselves as those who have or are without; we possess things, whether that be, money, a car, books or domestic appliances and /or we possess virtues such as initiative, patience, creativity… or instead we are those who are without.

If we possess these things, we are happy. If not, then we desire to own them. Which one of us, if not enterprising, bright, patient or creative, would not like to be so?
And all of this can be a good thing, no doubt, irrespective of a useless dualism between to have and to be. But is it enough?

It must not be so.

We are not simply divided between those people who own things, in their pursuit to accumulate, and those who are left wanting and are without.

We are instead called to be administrators, those capable of using or rather to potentialize that which we own.
A seed held tightly in one’s hand is so over protected that it rots before us. We are not called to be bodyguards of our personal wealth. We are, however, called to be investors.
How often do we become bodyguards of ourselves and that which surrounds us. Yet, a creative person is never a bodyguard.

At this point a question arises: what use is there to invest if everything must finish? There is nothing we can do, the question persists.

We find among us people able to invest their talent and qualities, but at times they themselves know not why. Their investment knows no horizon, or if it does, it is narrow.
Some weeks ago, I read a good book entitled Father Joe written by Tony Hendra, the famous show business personality connected with Monty Python. (The novel is published by Random House in the USA, and by Mondadori in Italy).

Hendra speaks about his friendship with a Benedictine monk. There is a short passage that speaks about the “core of modern arrogance: only my lifetime counts. My lifetime is ‘forever’. Time before it and time after it do not exist. Everything of importance must come to pass in my lifetime”.
Our investments don’t work because they have a very short deadline. They are repurchase agreements. We know when we will re-sell our bills of exchange and also for how much.
The meaning of life doesn’t work in this way.

The measure of the meaning of life is overflowing and requires us to dwell in the possibility (Emily Dickinson).
Without a heart capable of such a dimension of possibility our life would die, as the seed held so tightly dies, and with it the sense. The heart asks for a huge horizon. A good book distinguishes itself from an other by it’s depth and horizon.

Who will give us this horizon? Who will help us see?