One foot in front of the other
Life is finite. We all have an end that is rapidly approaching. You don't know when it is, do you? No, of course not. Unless your finger is squeezing the trigger on your life, you are not in control of the time you have. Do you have ten years left? More? You don't know, and it's not worth worrying about.
Death is my constant companion down this road. Death makes the flowers bloom and the fruit ripen. He puts food on my table and sweetens its taste. She brings light from the sun and heat from the wood. It brings joy from our closeness and adds passion to our touch. Death makes life worth living. It's a sentiment I stole from Wallace Stevens, and one I cling to. Life isn't worthless in the face of death. No, it's all the more powerful for its transience.
I want to live my life to the fullest. I want to climb rock walls and mountains. I want to hike and wrestle a bear. I want to leap from tall trees into water. I want to love and be loved. I want to trust and understand why others trust me. I want to write. I want to put my essence into the page. I want to bleed my soul to give life to those who should be alive. And I want to conquer the fears that make sure I do none of that. Those that prevent me from seeing that hole, barely hidden by the grass, in the brick wall blocking my path that I've just stumbled into.
I am melancholy today, and I don't know if I can do all that I feel I need and want to do in this life. But I don't want to just sit here and sulk, wasting those precious moments of that brilliant transience that I still possess. Everything ends, and one random day, everyone will know the pain of that end. And they will learn it over and over. But now is not that end. Now is the time to do what needs to be done, what wants to be done, and what could be done just because. Hug your cat. Call your folks. Be bull headed. Be proud. You may not control your time, but you control your life.
Death is my constant companion down this road. Death makes the flowers bloom and the fruit ripen. He puts food on my table and sweetens its taste. She brings light from the sun and heat from the wood. It brings joy from our closeness and adds passion to our touch. Death makes life worth living. It's a sentiment I stole from Wallace Stevens, and one I cling to. Life isn't worthless in the face of death. No, it's all the more powerful for its transience.
I want to live my life to the fullest. I want to climb rock walls and mountains. I want to hike and wrestle a bear. I want to leap from tall trees into water. I want to love and be loved. I want to trust and understand why others trust me. I want to write. I want to put my essence into the page. I want to bleed my soul to give life to those who should be alive. And I want to conquer the fears that make sure I do none of that. Those that prevent me from seeing that hole, barely hidden by the grass, in the brick wall blocking my path that I've just stumbled into.
I am melancholy today, and I don't know if I can do all that I feel I need and want to do in this life. But I don't want to just sit here and sulk, wasting those precious moments of that brilliant transience that I still possess. Everything ends, and one random day, everyone will know the pain of that end. And they will learn it over and over. But now is not that end. Now is the time to do what needs to be done, what wants to be done, and what could be done just because. Hug your cat. Call your folks. Be bull headed. Be proud. You may not control your time, but you control your life.