Determinism is the idea or notion that the universe has some purpose or destination towards which we are moving.

Some believe it has, others do not.  Whichever side of this we fall, we find ourselves in the thick of pondering determinism, our minds served by what William James termed “teleological mechanisms.”

What James has identified as a philosopher, those with the heart of a poet have added colour and shape to:

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets into you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

I was undone by these words this morning, and few more besides, halted a poet’s vision, word-smithing what is Thin|Silence for me:

It is strange to be here.  The mystery never leaves you
alone.  Behind your image, below your words, above
your thoughts, the silence of another world waits.  
A world lives within you.

The infinite artist lives an opening life.  It is the opposite of closing down creativity and possibility with an explanation – like the up-and-coming artist my friend Leah Robb mentions, closing down the conversation about his work by comparing his work with that of artists whose credentials could not be argued with.

The enemies of the opening life are closer than we think, inhabitants of everyday life: to win an argument, to take over shared office space, to monolopise conversation, to abuse holiday/sick day systems, to bully with “I say it as it is” – all closing life behaviours.

I am still learning the opening life: an open mind, an open heart, and open will.

This life suggests the only thing determined is an openness which means we do not know what we can be yet.