Here and There, Now and Then

Where does here end? And there begin? Where is the edge between now and then? Where does a valley stop and the mountain grow, or an ocean ebb for waves to flow? We can easily name one or the other. Yet we are hard pressed to delineate the difference. Fluency is essence. Continuity lies lurking underneath the surface of our labels, a constant current, submerged from sight and guiding us along, a liquid inheritance inherent to all things, such that there is no thing, really, as an utterly distinct and separate object. Separation is illusion. Kant’s ding an sich (“thing in itself”) does not exist. I am, and all things are, in relation, and without any relation there is no thing; there is nothing. Relationships are everything, as even a two-year-old knows. How easily we lose sight of this and are blessed to return to it. When we find ourselves in a place of pain or a time of need, we might turn for a moment from whatever we are doing to simply notice and reconnect with the flow of our surroundings. Here and there, now and then, we may glimpse it again: now becoming then, here becoming there, substance slipping into absence, and the silent reassurance all is one.