A snippet inspired by my drive home the other evening.
Sometimes life feels too easy: driving home with a belly just slightly too full with indulgences well after dark and your legs tingle while your feet float away from the pedals. You’re a sliver of waste in a river and in its entirety you become nothing; your doing and undoing go unnoticed and unclaimed. Here, in this vast flow, your end does not make you a martyr, it simply marks that you once were and now are not.
A brief weightlessness, a frightening reprieve from life’s cement yoke which seems always to ride heavy on your shoulders, seems unreal. You don’t feel this way. Life for you is a pulpy affair that clogs and stymies its own flow leaving you little energy to do even the simplest things.