Life is a process, but the power of our processing mind makes it interesting for better or for worse.
There was nowhere to hide. Sensations like thunderstruck me. “What could I do? Where could I go?”
I knew I was overwhelmed. The thought of being still was contrary to the feeling of urgency I felt.
Sitting still with my eyes closed seemed the opposite of where my energy wanted to go. I wanted to be like the wind on a hot day, lukewarm and slightly uplifted, going places and seeing people. Having passing experiences that forged onto novel roads.
Are these my nomadic ancestors wanting to take the reins, but how many times have I started over for the sake of starting over? Too many? Not enough?
Not enough. What an illusion this could be for the stoics. The thought of never setting foot in the same river twice and considering death as an old friend after a life of enduring acceptance.
