“…a confusion plain and nice…” Coffee in the Afternoon, by Alberto Rios

“Flying planes can be dangerous.” Noam Chomsky

I love a nice confusion:

 

The challenge of ambiguity,

the chance to open my mind,

trying new

routes to under

standing:

new ears,

new eyes.

This is

the

way I learn.

It’s the way I

often think,

seeing contradictions,

the other sides,

the re

flections and de

flections.

 

A good confusion is like a star-burst in my head,

stopping me

short

for

a bit.

Then the swirling and tugging and pushing and pulling

begin to reveal the new views,

the old thinking

places,

and the resolution: a resolution of balance, or,

if not

balance,

at least a

place for it all.

 

I delight when that happens. My brain likes being stirred and shaken, punched and kneaded.

I love puns, even the groaners, because they propel me into new language, new ideas, and the world gets richer, the crusts and heels of my thinking crackle and soften.

 

I love a nice confusion:

 

Especially

when other people are involved

and we

aim

to see into each other’s worlds and into our own.

I always learn;

I always hurt just

a

bit

(sometimes more) in the process.

Sometimes

I can be

in great pain,

but even

then,

a nice

confusion leaves me knowing more, feeling more, hungry

for

more understanding.

My loafing brain wakes

up.

 

Confusion

is con-

nection.

I feel its tentacles touching me,

calling

me

to one place or another,

to

all of the Confusion Places.

Sometimes

I really don’t want

to go.

Often I’m afraid. I resist.

I’m threatened

because my old self won’t

BE

Anymore.

there will have to be a new one, but

Maybe

not a

BETTER one.

Still,

that confusion storm teases and beckons, and

I do best

if

I embrace it.

My molded

mind reshapes

itself,

and that, my friends,

is a

NICE confusion.

 

 

“Colorless green ideas sleep furiously” Noam Chomsky

 

Bev Hartford