(no subject)
Nothing remains constant. Take a blade of grass. It begins as a seed; a bud appears and a blade shoots out of the ground; it sways and flows with the wind; gets eaten by insects, trampled on, and cut; and then it withers away and dies. Even in a dead calm, when it appears to be static, it is aging; internal functions are making it grow or external elements are causing it to slowly die. But you can never recapture a moment of its existence that has already passed, even if it's only back a second in time. And thus is life. An hour sitting in front of the television can never be regained. For all of eternity will that hour be occupied by the mundane task. And so, what if you fill your life with a series of such mundane tasks - what sort of a life is that? A person should aspire to avoid this fate. But as well, one should appreciate every moment, mundane or extraordinary, to find true happiness and fulfillment.