trains

I do much of my thinking on trains. And something that has given me much pause for reflection is the living metaphor that is being in transit. Perennially moving, but never quite there. Waiting, always waiting; propelling ourselves forward, advancing our career, polishing our reputation, refining our abilities, cycling through resolutions and friendships; but always waiting for something to happen.

I don't know what it is.

Waiting for enough money to be secure, maybe; for enough skills to do what you actually want to do; for enough reputation to feel safe enough to be yourself. For some deep contentment to finally settle in that obscure place within our 'self'. Whatever that is.

I just wonder why we all seem to be waiting until a certain set of circumstances come into being before we live fully. We seem to put off living big and radically until we're older, and instead spend our selves and our money on an oscillating routine between striving, stress, and mindless escape.

Why?

Each day, we have one less breath. I desperately don't want to waste a moment of it.

Not even those mundane moments on the train.