Would you feel sad if you realized life is nothing but experience?
Through my window I watch a swallow feeding in the air.
The sky is overcast.
In the corner of my eyes, the male cat that shares this apartment with me gets out of its favorite cardboard box, walks lazily to the couch, and settles down in a new position.
There’s a large cappuccino on the desk.
Raid has darkened the streets.
I will feel good today, and I might feel confused.
I will have beautiful conversations (already had one) and I might feel lonely, looking for a quick fix to deal with the sting.
And I might feel whole.
This morning I traveled to a time when I was thirteen and owned an eraser that smelled like non-existing fruit.
I licked it then, and I licked it today.
It tasted like eraser, both times.
Life is a random phenomenon, a happening broken into conceptual pieces, built into a sensical string, but only afterwards.
Life is a happening.
Life is happening.
I want to go fly fishing in Montana.
YouTube helps me out.
There I go, from moment to moment to moment.
From experience to experience.
What if that is all it is?
No direction, no bigger picture, no universal meaning.
And every opportunity in the world to make it into something.
To make it real, and precious, and exciting, and heroic.
You have to.
Life is there for you.
(Photo by @togna_bologna, for Unsplash)