Indecision is a plague, that slowly sickens the soul.
It robs us of our freedom, and blackens the heart like coal.
Its remedy I know not, for I play an unknown role.
But search for it I will, to make my brokenness whole.
Category: Thoughts
I can always say “tomorrow,” but tomorrow is never today.
What is not done now, may forever be delayed.
And so let us live, now as much as ever,
Lest while living we live not, and while living die forever.
Pipes, and fire, underneath the stars,
Smoke, crickets, near and afar.
Cold, darkness, unaware of time,
Sounds, silence, intoxicate like wine.
Friendship, honesty, a shared lack of longing,
Souls, together, impressions of belonging.
The world, distractions, melt away like wax,
Here, finally, a place to relax.
When I check my phone, email, twitter, the news, and all things Google and Wikipedia too frequently, what am I really looking for? I confess I consistently find almost nothing of real relevance or significance. Nothing comes to mind that has moved me, challenged my assumptions, or enriched my life in the last month. In fact, I believe they often do the opposite. Sifting through what is mostly trivial tends to make me more dull, banal, and indisposed to wonder. Why then do I feel a need to check these so frequently, to continuously feel connected?
I have several ideas. Checking my phone and other social technologies hints at my longing for personal connection with others, to be relevant in their lives, and for them to be relevant in mine. Checking the news reveals my desire to be engaged with ideas and events bigger than myself, and to influence the lives of others in significant ways. Exploring Google, Wikipedia, and YouTube quenches my endlessly trite curiosity with content egregiously free of real purpose or substance. And to some degree, they are all a distraction from boredom.
So if what I really desire are meaningful relationships and connections, ideas that deeply challenge and transform who I am, and meaningful ways to influence people, where then should I look?
Probably in the eyes of friends after a late night on the porch, rather than twitter. Probably in the pages of an old and influential book, rather than the latest addition to Wikipedia or YouTube. Probably more in the silence and experience of this beautiful, fragile, mysterious life, rather than the vapid distractions of modern technology. And also, perhaps, in places modern technology would least likely lead me to expect.
Here I sit, where have I sat,
Everyday for a year.
I do this, this or that,
To repeat is my career.
What will free, me and thee,
from work’s repetitious guaranty?
Can I find, peace of mind,
in my monotony?
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