We decided.
We decided (though there was no committee, no consensus) to nevermind, for the moment, that our tendency toward -ish — toward hedging, toward fudging, toward noncommittal nods to the transient universe — would be our downfall. Our violent acknowledgment of imprecision, of absent solid ground, would become an enactment of it, leading us toward lives and jobs and relationships that embodied painful transition and groundless shifting ground, that created new false floors from our own psychological trap doors, telltale hearts thumping underneath to give us away, to stave off any chance of mutual connection or meaning or purpose or hope or feeling with the insistence that all was -ish, could only be -ish, until calling it made it so.