​ELLIPSIS

​Wisdom Wherever You Find It
 
I don’t kid myself that anything I do is ever done.    Mazie Keiko Hirono
 
One of the most underappreciated punctuation marks in the English language is the ellipsis.  It is three periods in a row, and it indicates that something has been omitted.  When used in a quotation, the missing part is often some of the words.  But when reporting a suggestion, an emotion, or a potentially controversial idea, it is an invitation to the reader to finish the thought out of their own experience. 
 
I am a serial abuser of the ellipsis.
 
It is my belief that any idea worth considering is an invitation to the reader to add their own perspective.  And while I probably give the impression (okay, maybe sometimes intentionally) that I have the whole picture, the fact is that the observation of Sen. Hirono of Hawaii is the wisest attitude to have.  Though she has accomplished plenty in her life of public service (read her book, Heart of Fire, An Immigrant Daughter’s Story), she learned early that whatever goal she achieved was never permanent.  It is true of federal legislation, which is of no surprise to anyone.  But it is likewise true of a garden or even the deepest of friendships.
 
I remember hearing her say those words and connecting them in my head to one of the earliest teachings I learned from the Talmud, the compendium of Jewish law and lore.  “Yours is not to complete the work, but neither are your free to refrain from it.”  It is amusing to me that I went there because Sen. Hirono identifies as a Buddhist, not a theistic Jew like me.  And the rest of that Talmudic teaching is a thinly-veiled admonition about God’s insistence that we all overcome our laziness and do God’s will while there is time.  There’s a catchy tune to the whole thing.
 
But the essence of the teaching, wherever you find it, is captured in those three dots.  Imagine them at the end of any claim of achievement or accomplishment: I have fallen in love… We bought a house… The voting rights bill has reached the floor… The war is over…
 
So whether it is with an autonomous authority (God) or it is with an internal compass (mindfulness), what does the ellipsis demand of you?   When those three dots appear at the end or even in the in the middle of a sentence, what are you supposed to do?
 
I think the first thing to do is wonder why they are there.  What was the author’s intention in leaving something out?  Compare these two thoughts:
 
Though she spoke to him tenderly to him, his heart did not respond.
 
Though she spoke tenderly to him, his heart did not respond...
 
Call it provocation or laziness, when there is something known to be missing, the reader must (quite literally) fill in the blank.  The thought cannot be complete without the participation of the reader’s curiosity and conjecture.
 
The ellipsis is a convention of punctuation and a literary device.  When it is used to create intrigue in a written text, yours may not be to complete the work, but neither do you find yourself free to refrain from trying.  Used in print or on the screen, it allows the author to purposely engage the reader.
 
But real time has a place for the ellipsis as well, not as punctuation, but as mandate.  Nothing we do is ever done, no matter how definitively we declare so.  Sen. Hirono’s observation illustrates the truth that life is an ellipsis.  Either something is missing in the middle, or something is left to be done at the “end.”  You shouldn’t kid yourself otherwise.  There may be no author to engage you, but the ellipsis is there nonetheless.
 
I am a little worried that I have beaten this metaphor to death, but…
 

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