It may have been the blink-of-an-eye. It may have been infinity, unraveled; amplified. To extract reality from uncertainty, is to choose every word---every descriptor---with the utmost care. Like each single-latticed scale within the delicate, ethereal, translucent wing of a butterfly, each word must contribute to flight. Like the gargantuan immensity of a massive boulder teetering on the edge of a narrow promontory, each word must have weight; and intensity. Of course, this is impossible. Not the combination of flight and weight and intensity; this coalescence is difficult, but not impossible. The impossibility, is reality.

From the early smudge of questioning wonderment, to the recent blur of speculative skepticism, I am a solecism; organic offal of the highest order. I cannot rush; but I must hurry. Here I go...

Orientation begins at 00:00:01. At the very beginning I am simply plopped onto the tarmac, and encouraged to take off. Eventually I come to understand that orientation will continue for one full rotation, or cycle. I am uncertain as to what a full cycle is. Is it 12:00:00? Or is it 24:00:00? Or is it a numerical vagrant such as 75:00:00? Or 100:00:00? At the beginning, it does not matter. At the beginning, it promises to be a long stretch with an unforeseeable end. For purposes of clarity, I will equate it to a full day; (i.e. 24:00:00).

Previous to 01:10:00, I recall some, but not a lot of detail. I recall heavy sunshine with occasional stray showers, sometimes sporting gusty winds. I am happy.

At approximately 01:10:28, metacognition kicks in. I begin to wonder if I am happy.

Somewhere between 01:10:00 and 02:15:00, I become aware that a clock is ticking, but I am unable to locate the source. I am adaptable; I ignore it. During this period of orientation, I learn how to learn. I learn how to listen. I learn how to recognize. I learn how to be recognized. I learn how to curse. I learn how to ask more meaningful questions. I learn how to bring rain and thunder and lightning. I learn how to maneuver, with some finesse. During this period of orientation, I learn how to be serious, and I learn how to strive for control, and I learn how to believe I am in control. I learn how, and when, to not think. During this period, I do not learn how to shut up.

Between 02:15:00 and 04:20:00, I build on previous learning. I knowingly grow stronger, and I unknowingly begin to wear out. I find some waters to test, first in a drainage ditch, then in some chlorinated, manmade repositories, but ultimately I am wading through a sparkling, clear brook flowing from a luxuriantly green hillside. Refreshed and rejuvenated by the cool vibrancy of my surroundings, I revel for a time in the deeper pools below, and then, as 04:00:00 comes and goes, I chart a course and I begin to follow the spring, upstream. And during this period of orientation, I also learn how to see things in the best possible light.

Somewhere around 04:20:00, since I am still unable to discern the source of the (somewhat ominous, but not particularly worrisome) ticking, I visualize its source, I create a functional facsimile, I hang it on a wall, and I forget about it, because this process of orientation still promises a long day.

Between 04:20:00 and 07:40:00 I expand. I take on the responsibility of Love several times over. I come to learn joy, from its calm and peaceful roots to its pinnacles of effervescence. And I learn pain. I learn pain through mistakes, and regret, and through the compounded suffering of my personal humanity. I learn how to further intensify compounded suffering, and I learn how to escape. I come to find that I misunderstand "the responsibility" of Love, and I refocus. I begin to learn that Love is not the same as control.

Between 07:40:00 and 12:00:00 I struggle, and I persist. I am brought back to an awareness of the ticking I had previously hung on a wall, and I decide it is still distant; I decide I can continue to ignore it.

• Between 09:15:00 and 09:40:00 I find myself in the midst of rougher terrain. As 09:40:00 comes and goes, the hills I have been strolling become steeper; and rocky. There are plateaus on which I am solid and confident; and there are treacherous cuts and passes in which I am tossed from side-to-side, battling slippery shale and a jagged melee of seemingly random encumbrances. I learn to gain surer footing. I miss the rolling hills, but I am pleased with my ability to navigate the rougher terrain. It is during this period of orientation when I begin to learn that control is not the same as bravado.
• At approximately 11:16:21 I am knocked sideways by an unexpected and unseen assailant, and I begin to learn how to walk in the dark. As 11:20:00 comes and goes, I find I have traveled from rocky country into a land dominated by heavy forestation. In the thickest depths, where light is sparse and trails are thin, I become adept at walking sideways; or, on occasion, I simply sit comfortably in my forest. I become deceptively untroubled in deep shadow; and I come to find that the world does not miss me, and I do not miss the world. But then I come to find that I misunderstand my relationship with the world, and I refocus. I begin to learn that comfort is not a state to be desired. I begin to learn that movement---progress---requires discomfort. I begin to learn that I learn best moving through both shadow, and light. I begin to learn that bravado is not the same as knowledge.

As 12:00:00 comes and goes, I build on previous learning.

At approximately 12:06:04 I am wandering down a pleasant wooded path when the ticking becomes unbearably loud, and the face of my metronomic visualization becomes blurred and illegible. I can no longer ignore it. As 12:06:04 comes and goes, I can still visualize its face hanging right there on the wall, belching out its resounding ticks, but I can no longer make out its temporal movement. I can no longer trust my capacity to grasp its divinatory message. The harder I focus, the more it jumps around; once reading 13:42:26, then 23:18:51, then 17:21:21. And when I am not watching---when I turn my head---its resounding belches become gastronomic eruptions. As I am shaken, I remember that I created this functional facsimile. I remember that I hung it on that wall. And I remember that the end is unforeseeable. I turn my head, and it is bearable.

As 12:06:04 comes and goes, I continue to build on previous learning; at a more rapid rate.

As 12:06:04 comes and goes, I begin to seriously contemplate the purpose and the nature of orientation. By definition, it is a preparation. I must believe this. If I did not believe this, I would seek comfort. I previously found comfort in the complacency of my deep shadows; and I moved on. I previously found comfort in the acquiescence of the best possible light; and I moved on. On occasion, I still find comfort in these things, and each time, I choose to move on. In this moment I believe that each moment of orientation is there to prepare me for the next moment of orientation. I may choose to work within this momentary opportunity; or I may choose to be complacent; or I may choose to acquiesce. In this moment I find comfort in the knowledge that the end is unforeseeable. As I contemplate, I begin to learn that knowledge is not the same as reality. I must move on. And then, I must ultimately move on. These thoughts create discomfort.

As 12:06:04 comes and goes, 12:06:04 is gone; and 13:42:26 is gone; and 23:18:51 is gone; and 17:21:21 is gone; and 24:00:00 comes, and goes.

It may have been the blink-of-an-eye. It may have been infinity, unraveled; amplified. To extract reality from uncertainty, is to choose every word---every descriptor---with the utmost care. Like each single-latticed scale within the delicate, ethereal, translucent wing of a butterfly, each word must contribute to flight. Like the gargantuan immensity of a massive boulder teetering on the edge of a narrow promontory, each word must have weight; and intensity. Of course, this is impossible. Not the combination of flight and weight and intensity; this coalescence is difficult, but not impossible. The impossibility, is reality.