liberry

There is a confusion I see in and around me. Since it is in me, I do not know how much of that which I see around me is around me. Since it is in me, I know it can be around me. I also recognize its absence by the presence of otherwise.

The confusion I speak of is that which comes from seeking a fix to what is not broken, and thus its nature is breaking under the name fixing—and so, I call it confusion.

A man at the library approached and accosted me for not opening a book I had picked out and had sitting next to me on the table, as I typed on my computer.

I was taken off guard, as he took the book away from me and returned it to the shelf.

Ten minutes later, he brought it back. I thanked him for bringing it back, and he said, “You should’ve opened it when I told you to.”

I remained silent.

I imagined he was accosted by the librarians for staying too long, for taking up space, for being out of place, for not following rules he didn’t know existed—that he was simply repeating a lesson he was taught, teaching me that you can’t stay too long at the library without reading the books, or that you will be met with anger if you do not do as you are told. I imagined this for my own sake. I do not know what the truth is.

He appeared to me like a window that reflected all the misguided light aimed at him back outward, but he did not lie to me. He let his life tell the truth of his life.

I was disappointed he did not receive my thank you. I noticed that he seemed scared of me when I approached, frozen like a stone when I addressed him.

He was alone, and he was confused, and there was no fixing to be done.

People have ideas that a person must fix people into being people properly, and he is self-evidently a product of these ideas. I recognized in him something in myself—that voice I wield against myself.

What comes to mind is teaching a child to read by scolding them when their attention strays. The child learns that to focus means scolding one's attention and reading means focusing on words. Good teachers don’t do this, but it is teaching, because what is learned is a kind of knowledge.

This is an analogy.

We do this to each other.

Confusion recruiting confusion.

“We must cease fixing what is not broken,” I should like to say, but then you see the confusion is baked into even this, as it is both a fix and presumes we can see what is and is not broken.

There is nothing to fix.

“So, what do you will?” comes crashing back the presence of otherwise.