marrow
the inside of the bone
bone
A bone is mostly hollow. You know this — you've known it since the textbook,
the diagram with the arrows pointing at parts. But when you picture a bone,
you picture the outside: the hard white shaft, the knuckled ends. You picture
the structure.
The inside is where the blood gets made. Red marrow, soft and vascular,
quietly producing what the rest of you will spend. The compact bone is the
wall. The wall holds nothing. The wall holds the wall. What the bone
is for lives in the part that looks like absence.
winter tree
In a bare winter tree, the decision about where to put the first bud has
already been made. The branches look like emptiness — like waiting. But inside
each branch tip, the bud is committed, differentiating, choosing its direction.
The bare branches are not the tree resting. They are the outside of a decision
already underway.
wall
Inside the wall of your house: a city that doesn't know it's in your house.
Pipes that have mapped the pressure of water for thirty years. Wires that
carry the memory of every switch. You can't hear them. You can't see them.
The wall is solid. Nothing is happening in the wall. Except: everything the
house needs to be alive.
word
Inside a word you know well is the first time you heard it. The occasion —
the voice, the light, whatever you were doing when it arrived — is still in
there. Layered under every subsequent use. You can't get back to it from
outside. But it's in there, making the word that word and not another.
sleep
The sleeping is just the outside. Inside sleep is the actual work: the
consolidation, the filing, the decision about what to keep. You wake up
different because of what happened while you weren't watching. The unconscious
part was not the interruption. The unconscious part was the point.
you
Right now, while you read this: approximately 37 trillion cells are doing their
work without your permission or your knowledge. You — the one with opinions,
the one reading — are the outside of a much larger process. The you that makes
you is somewhere below where you can look.
A bone is mostly hollow.
So is everything else that holds you up.