Life. Such an interesting word. It has so many meanings, slants and takes that one could get lost solely in the debate of what exactly constitutes one's interpretation of life.
On the basest level life is just that, living. In this context one can focus readily on the biological: moving, breathing, surviving; the hyperphysical: feeling, tasting, touching, sensing; or the psychological: the daily decisions that create for each individual an existence so unique that no two people will ever live identical lives.
No two lives are ever the same, each unique journey is shaped not only by the experiences we feel sense and think about, but, more resolutely, by how we, as individuals, interpret the world around us. These interpretations encompass not only the physical sense of the world, but also how that world interacts and reacts to the wake we leave behind us during our journey. It is these interpretations that give us our perspective of what our life means.
Life is still something I am trying to make sense of as I wander, often lost in wonderment about my place and my role within the grand scheme of the countless lives bouncing along around me.
In this life I have been accused of being overly sensitive by the same people who call me incapable of emotion. I have hated on the greed while finding myself scheming for my slice of the pie. I have at times thought up was down and down was up, and argued voraciously for my skewed view to be not only understood but embraced.
Life is like that, constantly changing, yet resolutely the same from day to day. The sun will always rise in the East and set in the West, but never will any artist capture two identical sunsets. Though the lights and the colors playing off the the clouds and the skies may look absolutely identical to one, to another, the differences in tone and temperament are as different as the rising sun in winter versus fall.
Embracing this understanding is sometimes a difficult thing for me, yet it is so readily graspable that I wonder how my inner debate still rages. I am envious of those individuals who are capable of seeing the view for what it is, beautiful and simple; for these people the opposites that comprise life cause nothing more that interesting fodder for simple debates.
I envy them because, for them, these debates never reach the crescendo of a winter storm's waves crashing over a bulkhead like mine do. I envy them because they are a able to skim along the surface, never fully knowing (or perhaps never really caring) about what lurks beneath the surface. A life like this, devoid of too deep a thought, would be so simple.
I guess these thoughts are spurned by the fact that I am balancing precipitously close to the edge of that downward sprint that is "over the hill". It is this sprint that scares me, life has already flown by, how much faster can it get?
And so I am left with questions as I try to decide on my next step. Where should I step towards next, and how am I to know that not only it is the right direction, but along the correct path?
I guess that is the journey, as it is better to choose something and let your own perspectives tell you whether it was the right choice than to sit around in feigned comfort. I need to do a better job of actually experiencing the many facets that comprise life on an actual physical level, rather than just playing scenarios over and over in my mind about what it might be like.
Time to take a dive into the deep end. Just need to be sure I have my trunks tied on tightly.
