As the paint dries on the puzzle
Time spent in a life with nothing to do can seem to fly by at the speed at which paint dries.
You could easily be in the middle of doing many things and find that you are board. Board not because you have nothing to do but rather because the things you find yourself doing have nothing for you. It’s as if your are piecing together a puzzle with a million parts. Staring at each individual shape. inches from your face and you are unable and unwilling to look past that shape to possibly get a look at the creation that forms as the pieces fall into place. The object inches from your face can not possibly give you any satisfaction, only the blurred creation forming in the background of your life has the entertainment you seek. A catch 22 of sorts. If you stop to view what will give you pleasure, you will only see an unfinished mess and the desire to continue will no longer be there. However if you stay stuck in your nearsighted state you will never know how much longer you have.
Why do we bury ourselves in piles of puzzle pieces trying endlessly to put them where we think they belong. Searching for the home or purpose of each piece somehow makes us feel as though we have in some way found out place in life. We live vicariously through the work we do. thinking that somehow finding the location for each part will some how illuminate the answer to why we exist. That our purpose in life is only to find purpose. An endless search. What if we somehow find the answer. Then if our purpose is to seek purpose then once we find the answer we have no more need to be here. Where do we go. The people that find purpose must leave to the magical winners circle of life. OR is it that finding purpose is not our purpose. If that is true then why do so many of us spend our lives looking for it. If we are not supposed to find purpose then the search is a pointless waist of time. No one likes to feel as though they have waisted there life on pointless thing. Is the puzzle of life pointless? Do we have a choice?
All I know is that I stare day after day at things that are inches from my face. I can see nothing beyond that. There is nothing beyond what is directly in front of me. I try to make myself believe that i can see more, but i can only accept my delusions for so long before the reality comes crashing down and once again i stand face to face with my life of inches.
Beyond me there are inches
Beyond inches there is a shape
Beyond the shape is the puzzle
Beyond the puzzle are the answers
But i can only see inches past myself and all that lies past that i may never see.
