The White Queen on the other side
Of Alice’s Looking Glass
Practiced believing impossible things -
As a many as six -
Before breakfast.
I see the merit in such and approach.
It encourages imagination,
And, ironically, possibility.
But when I ponder it,
There is also merit
In believing as many as six
Possible things before breakfast.
When I think about the fact
That I wake up most mornings
Immersed in a sea of certainties
Flowing through my mind and all around me
So constantly
That I hardly know they are there,
It occurs to me that most other people wake up
In seas of similar certitude
But of different certainties.
The people I most disagree with,
The people who think things I could never think,
Thoughts that are not only wrong
But translate into horrible actions
And terrible policies
Are just as certain as I am
Of their rightness
Before they sit down to coffee and eggs and bacon.
So perhaps
It behoves me to think six possible things before breakfast.
Is it possible that I’m wrong?
Is it possible that my certainty is an idol
I bow down to so I don’t have to think?
Is it possible I’m a hypocrite?
Is it possible that when my certainties
Are brought out of my head
Into the light
They will make scene and clash with each other?
That I might have a fight on my hands
Between rival ideas
That I thought got along fine
But actually want to tear each other’s throats out?
Do hold others to a standard
I don’t expect of myself?
Is it possible that I’m
Just going with my gut,
My knee jerk reaction,
With what I want to be true,
When in reality,
If pressed,
I don’t actually know very much
About the opinions I’m so sure of?
Is it possible that the world
Of ideas that I take for granted
Is just a construction,
Like the movie Matrix,
But created by my own mind:
Made up of biases
And prejudices
And online filter bubbles
And money being made somewhere
Out there in the digital either
From the fact that I keep on clicking
On the things that already agree with me.
Is it possible that I have reduced
The world into simple binaries
(Ones and zeroes in computer parlance)
Without nuance,
Without color,
All black and white,
And myself always standing in the light
Of righteousness?
Is it possible I am missing the nuances,
The inbetween-ness of things
The allows for complexity,
For paradox?
Is it possible that
The worldview I find on my head each morning
Like an enormous hat
I have somehow slept in
Is a protective helmet
I have built around my mind
To keep out the thoughts
That might actually help me grow?
But will I actually
Question myself?
Will I attempt to step
Out of my comfortable,
Limited perspective?
Or is that impossible?
If so, perhaps I have thought six
Impossible things before breakfast
After all.
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