Ambiguity

Ambiguity is difficult.

Something in my brain has to know. It has to absolutely know. Even silly things, stuff that doesn’t matter. That something in my brain wants to take that esoterica and pin it to a card, put the card under glass, and call it finished.

Ambiguity is also about resolution.

You don’t really know what I mean when I say “resolution”. Do you? I can use that word at least two different ways. You could read it either way. Maybe you did, in the beginning, before I reminded you that there’s another way to read “resolution”.

Depending on your personality, it might not be enough to pick one. You’ll want to know what I mean. After all, this is my blog. You’re reading it read my thoughts, not get some reflection on your own.

You want something. You want… resolution. And there it is again, that ambiguity.

I actually chose the word “resolution” because it can mean two things, and I mean both of those things. Sorry if you chose sides. Ambiguity is about resolution in that too much of it stops the resolution of any situation (after all, some things absolutely must be fixed and resolved), but also in that too little reduces the pixel density of your world.

Too much ambiguity and you’re set adrift. Too little and the world becomes a photocopy of itself.

Ambiguity is good. But it’s bad. Just like doubt. And I don’t mean this is a sort of dualistic “find the median between the good and bad” sort of way. As if such a thing is possible. I mean ambiguity is good and bad at the same time. In the same situation. With the same resolution in view.

You might not like that. I don’t. It’s too meta. It’s too self-referential or clever or something else that makes you think this is all just talk.

I also love it, because for me, ambiguity is the wellspring of creativity. The question that can’t or won’t be answered has tension baked in.

It’s accurate, too. Life doesn’t have a Hays Code. The good guys are not good. The bad guys are not bad. There’s a sort of body horror that happens when someone approaches the outer limits of this rule, when they dissolve into a cartoon version of themselves. The good that is too good, the bad that is too bad — both are frightening, in different ways.