While you're in them, seasons of life seem extraordinary. Fiery, fragile, and erratic. But once you
have some distance from them, the moments seem to get smaller, until they are
almost out of focus.
When you look back over your life, you can see more of it
now than ever before. And yet it seems somehow diminished. Unassuming. Almost charming.
So you begin scanning your life, looking for something
interesting or beautiful. You see an ordinary house, with an ordinary yard, on
an ordinary street. It looks smaller than you remember. You once had wild
dreams and obstacles and risks looming all around you, but now they look
smaller too.
You remember giants and goddesses and villains you
encountered, but all you see now is ordinary people assembled in their tiny
classrooms and workspaces, each of us moving around in little steps, like
tokens on a game board. No matter how many times you rolled the dice, it was
always these little moves, here and there.
We do a little work, take a little rest, make a little
friend, throw a little party, feel a little boredom, and have a little
rebellion. There are so many of these token moments, that were supposed to
represent some other thing. You keep adding them all up, as if there was
something you forgot to count, some bundle of glory that fell off the back of a
truck.
You may love the life you have, for everything it is. You
know it isn't groundbreaking, but you wouldn't change a thing. Maybe when you
first started building the life you wanted, you left plenty of room for what
might happen, and somehow lost track of what was happening.
Or maybe you were never 'in it' to begin with. Maybe you
knew even then that this wasn't the world you expected. A world so low and
common you tried to keep your distance, floating somewhere above it, where
nobody else could look down on this life you built.
Nobody else but you.
TJ
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