Just Discrimination; Pacing
"Nothing can make water better."
"More than is needed is life."
Always Coming Home (wiki) (1985), by Ursula K. Le Guin , pg. 331
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Life is good. I'm still unsettled and uncertain about the future and I've just had a series of emotionally trying events swirl together, but good. I feel like my life tends to work in process of alternating waves of massive stimulus and activity followed by a retreat inward for introspection, recovery, and processing. The rhythm of my life for the past few years has been very much one of sprint-rest, sprint-rest. I've never figured out this whole 'pace yourself' thing either in the literal realm of a footrace, or in the metaphorical race of life (which, of course, is ultimately just with yourself). I still hold out hope that someday I'll figure out how to abandon the race and treat life like a hike, which I'm good at. I like the steady trop-trop swift walking of a good hike, and the uncertain and changing ground, steepness, and scenery. But it seems like the models of life I see around me are all about marathons and hectic dashes. I don't want a life that's a long-distance race. I'm a little tired of the adrenaline rush of short sprints with disappointing results - disappointing not they're bad results, just because they don't live up to the inherent hype implied by a sprint.
"More than is needed is life."
Always Coming Home (wiki) (1985), by Ursula K. Le Guin , pg. 331
---
Life is good. I'm still unsettled and uncertain about the future and I've just had a series of emotionally trying events swirl together, but good. I feel like my life tends to work in process of alternating waves of massive stimulus and activity followed by a retreat inward for introspection, recovery, and processing. The rhythm of my life for the past few years has been very much one of sprint-rest, sprint-rest. I've never figured out this whole 'pace yourself' thing either in the literal realm of a footrace, or in the metaphorical race of life (which, of course, is ultimately just with yourself). I still hold out hope that someday I'll figure out how to abandon the race and treat life like a hike, which I'm good at. I like the steady trop-trop swift walking of a good hike, and the uncertain and changing ground, steepness, and scenery. But it seems like the models of life I see around me are all about marathons and hectic dashes. I don't want a life that's a long-distance race. I'm a little tired of the adrenaline rush of short sprints with disappointing results - disappointing not they're bad results, just because they don't live up to the inherent hype implied by a sprint.