We make our way through the world, generally following "the course of least resistance," like water on its journey to the sea. In similar situations, we do similar things-- things that have worked before, and we assume will work again-- and over time we create patterns, or ruts, and fall into habits of mindlessly repeating what has gone on before, thinking that is how things ought to be, too preoccupied with other matters to give what we are doing much thought, or even stopping to see what we are looking at, and call that a life, and call that being alive, when it is being mostly dead. Who are we? What are we about? What is ours to do? Do we just make up something here? Are we free to fill in those three blanks with anything we feel like saying at the moment? Are we clearly one set of things and not other sets of things? Are we about certain specific behaviors and actions and not about others? Are we obligated to do what we are uniquely suited to do, or free to think we can be an opera singer if we want to be? What are our responsibilities to ourselves? To each other? To all others? Do we have a way to follow specific to us? Are we free to live any way at all? Is one way of life as good as another? Does it matter how we live? Does it matter what we do with our life? To whom does it matter? Whose business is it how we live? What we do with our life? Is it our business? Do we have any business living any way we want to? Or, is our business seeking the life that is ours to live, and living it to the best of our ability with the gifts that are ours to serve and to share? And if that is our business, how do we go about doing it?
One thought on “August 27-A, 2022”
Well written poem. Live to the best of our ability