The excitement of insight

There are great times and places to be alive, to be breathing, and learning and knowing, and building things, and trying new things, and reading new texts, which are nothing but old texts written by forward-thinking but historically-minded scholars, ideas forged in extreme-temperature foundries, hearts moved by innovative minds, minds moved by compelling new ways to look at old things, new ways to look at the self and the person next door, to wage one battle and find ten ways to put an end to it, to bring together and analyse discretely, to realise that potentials are never seen and revealed, but must be sought deep within old forgotten libraries, where the past is past being only a source of resentment and a middle period in a long stretch of unbound humanity, but also a treasure found at the edge of the great river of knowing, washed up but not completely lost, though lost to itself.

Yes, learning should feel like 1523, or 1253, or 1215, or 1000, or 800, or any other time when insight was afforded to inquisitive eyes and poised minds. Yes, learning should feel like the past opens up to new ways of seeing, the connection between A and B where A and B have always existed on the opposite edges of relevance, just on the other side of the eureka moment, a step behind but ready for a giant leap forward.

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