Limited Sight Distance
The sign was there as I came over a rise; another steep hill climbed before me. Most times in life, there is no such warning. You find yourself caught between slopes and will soon only be able to see a very little way. Or perhaps the clouds have suddenly descended, obscuring the road you once saw perfectly.
Writing a novel is like that. Making a piece of art is like that. Life, too, is like that. You're speeding along, when suddenly you can't see. Where was I going? What was I doing? Why has it all disappeared?
With a Limited Sight Distance, you have to harness your courage and trust that the view will clear again. You'll know where to go, and why--the valleys, farms, and fields will appear around you, the strong spine of highway will carry you.
But for now, you don't stop in the middle of the road, bewailing your predicament. You keep going.
Sight is handy, but it's not everything.
Distance is nice for measuring, and measurements are comforting.
Limitations are rarely welcome in our lives.
But though we are sightless, and though trained to study distances and spurn limitations, we can experience this place where we are now . . .
. . . called here. The Limited Sight Distances are limited. The foggy cloudy patches will drift into tatters of sunburst. There it will be: an endless vista. We will know an unknowable truth.
Remembering it was here all along.
When was the last time your sight became limited? For how long a distance?
Labels: Mystery and the Writer