(no subject)
When I say the words 'purity' and 'innocence,' what kind of person do you think of? Likely a newborn child, right? I know that would usually be my first reflex.
That's not wrong, but I wouldn't call it correct, either.
To make water pure, it must be vaporized and condensed: distilled. To make iron pure, it must be heated and hammered: tempered. To make an individual pure... what is a pure individual?
Water can't make pure water; obviously, not even the purest water can do that. Same with iron; it can be a tool in other ore's purification, but it's but one of many components of the process.
I don't know what purity is; not completely. I can't understand it. I'm not pure.
I have a theory, though.
It's a person who's been heated, hammered, their phases changed and their innocence distilled. Through the heat and turmoil of the world, their impurities are cast aside one by one until their essence stands alone and coalesces. What remains is innocent.
The pure and the innocent stand out easily among the rest of us, don't they? We struggle for control of our lives and our fates and even for the lives and fates around us, but a pure and innocent person doesn't seem to do that. At least not in the same way.
We speak to them, and they sympathize and offer whatever help they can, but they're always relaxed, calm, smiling. It's like they're enjoying themselves, but not in a sadistic way. They simply understand that things are the way that they must be, that our pains and our struggle are necessary and that, not only is it futile to try and eliminate the pain and struggle, but that we must not.
The pure and innocent are an anchor for the rest of us. We can take any problem and simultaneously think of them, and know things will be alright. We don't often grasp or epiphanize a solution from their example, we simply suspect that we'll find our way. That's so much more than enough help.
That's why they know they don't have to linger. That's why they know they probably shouldn't. They remain present for a while, watching and smiling and amusing themselves in their peculiar, harmless, and heartwarming way. All the while, we feel that they're watching. They're not judging, that's not what's written in their eyes; they're empathizing, approving.
All the while, though, they're withdrawing. Slowly taking a step towards the door when our eyes are turned, weening us from their presence. Their work is done, and their history a permanent beacon; we used to depend on their physical presence, but now their example is enough to sustain us, so now they must step aside to let us strive for our own purity.
They know if we turn and notice them leaving, we'll panic, beg them to stay a little longer. That's why they're so discreet in their exit. Grief would be a distraction, so they want to minimize it. It's painful for us, but it's more painful for them to see us pained by it. This is their way of reducing that as much as they can.
I love you, Ruby, and I want you around forever and ever. But maybe you can't be. You're the purest thing I've ever known, and I'm not so impudent to try and change the course of your imperative.
I'll weather the storm, together with my peers. And I'll always remember you. But so long as I live, I won't forget you or stop loving you. If that's an impurity, somebody's going to have to melt and hammer my very core to work it out of me.
That's not wrong, but I wouldn't call it correct, either.
To make water pure, it must be vaporized and condensed: distilled. To make iron pure, it must be heated and hammered: tempered. To make an individual pure... what is a pure individual?
Water can't make pure water; obviously, not even the purest water can do that. Same with iron; it can be a tool in other ore's purification, but it's but one of many components of the process.
I don't know what purity is; not completely. I can't understand it. I'm not pure.
I have a theory, though.
It's a person who's been heated, hammered, their phases changed and their innocence distilled. Through the heat and turmoil of the world, their impurities are cast aside one by one until their essence stands alone and coalesces. What remains is innocent.
The pure and the innocent stand out easily among the rest of us, don't they? We struggle for control of our lives and our fates and even for the lives and fates around us, but a pure and innocent person doesn't seem to do that. At least not in the same way.
We speak to them, and they sympathize and offer whatever help they can, but they're always relaxed, calm, smiling. It's like they're enjoying themselves, but not in a sadistic way. They simply understand that things are the way that they must be, that our pains and our struggle are necessary and that, not only is it futile to try and eliminate the pain and struggle, but that we must not.
The pure and innocent are an anchor for the rest of us. We can take any problem and simultaneously think of them, and know things will be alright. We don't often grasp or epiphanize a solution from their example, we simply suspect that we'll find our way. That's so much more than enough help.
That's why they know they don't have to linger. That's why they know they probably shouldn't. They remain present for a while, watching and smiling and amusing themselves in their peculiar, harmless, and heartwarming way. All the while, we feel that they're watching. They're not judging, that's not what's written in their eyes; they're empathizing, approving.
All the while, though, they're withdrawing. Slowly taking a step towards the door when our eyes are turned, weening us from their presence. Their work is done, and their history a permanent beacon; we used to depend on their physical presence, but now their example is enough to sustain us, so now they must step aside to let us strive for our own purity.
They know if we turn and notice them leaving, we'll panic, beg them to stay a little longer. That's why they're so discreet in their exit. Grief would be a distraction, so they want to minimize it. It's painful for us, but it's more painful for them to see us pained by it. This is their way of reducing that as much as they can.
I love you, Ruby, and I want you around forever and ever. But maybe you can't be. You're the purest thing I've ever known, and I'm not so impudent to try and change the course of your imperative.
I'll weather the storm, together with my peers. And I'll always remember you. But so long as I live, I won't forget you or stop loving you. If that's an impurity, somebody's going to have to melt and hammer my very core to work it out of me.