Ruins
Ruins offer a doorway into the past. At that portal we ask, “What manner of stones and what buildings?” We imagine what once was, prior to the fall or the push. Taking a breath in that past moment, without the awareness of what comes next, we supply the missing elements. There was a tower. There was a baths. Listen for the roar of the crowd. Catch the spark of that disco ball. Smell the sweat of liberation. And perhaps, standing among the ruins, we can see the nobility that rises from the ashes—a nobility that might not have been realized otherwise.
When I say nobility, I don’t mean the nobility of status. I mean the nobility of action. I’m talking about the nobility of an ethical, moral stand—the nobility of authority, courage, honor, energy, sacrifice. I mean liberty, freedom, pride, and love. This is nobility to me.
As cultures, as people, we’re in a constant state of disintegration and decay. We’re in a non-stop fall from innocence. We walk on the ashes of our ancestors and provide the footpath for our descendants. Here among the ruins there is really no return to “normal.” There is no escape. To deny this, it seems to me, would be a lie. So what to do? If I don’t want to participate in this noble lie, I must become the noble ruin. Every morning when I shave, I greet my noble ruin. It is my most honest memoir.