There are moments in life where one pops up for air, looks around, and is suddenly overwhelmed by the sameness of the landscape. It's like driving on Interstate 80 through Nevada: Hills, scrub brush, a half dozen trailer parks with tumbleweed in their yard - look, a town! - hills, more scrub brush, how long until we get there...
It's a damnable, dull gnawing thing. One has much to be thankful for - far more blessed than one could have ever hoped - but yet there is a nagging feeling of the sameness of it all, a sameness in all one does and all one's relationships: I get up at the same time, I read the same things, I go to work the same way, I do the same thing, I come home in the same traffic, I go through the same routine at home, I wash the same dishes, do the same pre-bed activities, and off to bed I go.
Look it's another day.
It's at moments like these that I struggle to find God in my circumstances. I feel not so much abandoned as ignored, as if I've been put on cruise control. Moments of supernatural are few and far between, crushed out between the deadly dull realities like a daisy smashed between two paving stones.
It's also at moments like these that I find myself more and more wanting to throw it all away, to hit the road, to do the anti-dull routine thing, to be zany and crazy and wild and passionate and exciting - all the things that it feels like I'm missing. But then I get caught, thinking "But who will pay for, and what will be done about, and what will this look like...."
How does one resolve the incongruity of the swiftness of time and the slowness of living through it?
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