Day 28 - Symmetry

This bridge is obviously old and likely unsound; I drive to it often. It connects two stretches of gravel road over a muddy stream in the deep, quiet parts of Northwest Missouri. I have never passed another car on this road; I never see tire tracks imprint the gravel other than my own. Weather permitting, I can follow it to completion and emerge miles away onto a paved, named road. But most of the time I end my voyage here at this bridge and turn back for home.

I guess I always assumed that I stopped here for safety reasons; driving over the bridge poses unnecessary risk. But, instead of the fear of personal harm I think actually I fear the inevitable disappearance of this bridge. The death that awaits us all also lurks under this bridge hungrily. I think my mind tells me not to use it so it can last. I think I want it to last because I have associated it with my own impermanence, and I want to last.

Maybe my avoidance of traveling over this bridge is the same avoidance that I employ to keep from experiencing new things in my own life. If I just avoid use, maybe I will last forever. But know that is not true.

I think I am afraid of breaking beautiful things. But this bridge was built to be used, and I think it wants to be.