One of the great things (I guess) about completely ripping up your life and relocating it is that it disrupts all of your old patterns, allowing you to reconsider what you've been doing, why you've been doing it, and are there things that simply don't make sense anymore or should make more sense. Sometimes we are too much "in" things to really look objectively "at" things.
One item which has come to my attention in the last few days, really since being here in Austin, is this sense I have that things should come to an end - that there should be a finish line, that I can collapse at after the end and head off to the showers. The reality, I'm finding out, is that I can't. I have trained myself to believe there is an end to doing - in fact, there is not.
How did I get here? Honestly, I believe being good at school really contributed to it. School is a defined term - you go for a fixed period, you do certain things, you get a grade, you go on or take a break. In many cases, activities or hobbies not school related are the antithesis to this: they are not necessarily tied to a particular time or place and are ongoing activities.
The reality is, in this life we never "arrive" at the place where we can throw it all down prior to heaven. Certainly, the mode of what we do may change, the activities may become different - but that is a different thing than ending or stopping.
How would how I conduct my life change if I saw things as a series and continuum of things to be accomplished rather than a one time event to be reached and stop?
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