Something

Where do the lessons live on days when movement halts? A question my liminal boredom seems to constantly repeat.

Life without "work", one is told, comes with its risks. How is work practically defined in a modern world? Dictionary.com's first definition is: "exertion or effort directed to produce or accomplish something".

Indeed, "something". Deep down, who defines the thing? Clearly, I have been churned through a system that provides the illusionary belief that I have a choice, except the choice not to choose. Even after the "educational" phase, the modern system insists on authoring my "thing", while contorting awareness to believe I am at the helm.

Real steer of life often comes too late, e.g. breakdown, injury or illness becomes a catalyst into personal alignment, forcing an awareness of the wiring behind the curtain. When seen, it cannot be unseen, leaving me older and wiser, but for a period, lost in a world that paints a picture that feels removed from our present time.

Outside of letting time pass, I don't see solutions here. Personal understanding begins when I've let the volume of modernity reduce. Conditioned from childhood to "pay attention", decades are lived where I pay with tension. The fear of silence cuts deep, but it's here that the real choice of who I am lives.