Can it be said that dust is at the root of all creation? It lives, it thrives, and it continues whether we dust our shelves, desks, tables and windows – it always sneaks back, even though we think we have swept it all away to the trash. One thing I noticed about dust is that it comes out when it wants to whether I am at home or on vacation. It doesn’t have a rhyme or reason why it builds itself up, in what seems like a day or maybe in a week it collects itself and spreads itself out on counter tops, any flat surface will do, and it just exists as a collection of particles that mimic any surface.
How is it that it returns when we least expect it to be there. Dust is like the unconscious reminder of where we return at the end of our natural lives, after disintegrating or being cast afire for the eventual freedom of being purged out of our bodies. Is dust a reformulation of personal things that exist in our midst? And, if dust naturally disintegrates to particle matter, why is it that dust just exists? Why doesn’t it just disintegrate down to a non-existent space? Instead it seems to reinvent itself and seep under doorways when we are least aware.
If dust exists on our table tops, can it also exist in our minds, taking up space inside our heads when we least expect that area to be encumbered with foreign particles? It isn’t too far-fetched to consider that dust may make its way into our bodies through our noses and mouths when we least expect it to. Our brains are continuously multi-tasking, with specialty circuitry that allows us to think, move, and exist. Perhaps our own intricate minds are coated with dust since it seems to live in cohesiveness within our natural surroundings. Quite simply dust takes up space. Perhaps dust has a function that we are not aware of at this time. Possibly the times when we aren’t functioning well, perhaps the mechanism that drives our brain is overcome with dust particles that glom onto specialty nerve fibers that cause those fibers to slow down our mainframe brains. Perhaps when we consider ourselves to be ill – it is just a coating of dust inside our brains, a separate reality of consciousness where infinitesimal particles stick together, or particles charge and re-energize themselves in a state of matter.
Can we exist without dust? Perhaps dust is a real entity, that we can’t get rid of, why don’t we just give up and let dust exist, since it just comes back anyway?
Copyright Helen Holden-Gladsky, 2010