What Is This Life? ( + My Conclusion In One Sentence)

What is this life?

Stacks of unread books piled high in dusty corners and kitchen counters.

The nagging hum of your endless, unanswerable questions and dirty clothes waiting to be spun and swirled into something beautiful.

A 15-minute nap you didn’t intend to take, but knew your body craved.

Despite resistance, the resolution to keep moving forward still appears like magic with each new day.

Rushed mornings with bran muffins on the counter for the kids to snag and devour before the bike ride to school begins.

Running late to every place we need to be, finally realizing the world goes on despite our ability to arrive at 8:45 am on the dot.

Fresh bouquets from the garden take center stage on the table, while our denial of the changing seasons drags on until at least December.

Whipped up meals for the family and resulting shame of the daily egg sandwich and twice-a-week mac & cheese for dinner.

The banter and bickering of children from every room, you look for an escape, but find the only one is acceptance.

Ears ring and you try to remain calm, focus on your breathing like the healers say, gratefulness our supposed medicine in this difficult moment, and then in a flurry of rage you yell at them to quiet down, yet another reminder you are no saintly mother.

Tears, pools of tears, every day honestly because this world is harsh and heavy, and sometimes you pretend you can carry it all on your shoulders that is until you curl up on your bed each night like you’re 8-years-old.

The build-up of scars and scabs from all the wounds, of choices made and dreams buried, you’re curious where to go from here, when every path appears to be a dead end and requires time and energy you’re not ready to give just yet.

The familiar feelings of lack haunt you- everyone else scurries around with seemingly important stuff to do, while you worry you’re behind or worse lazy.

Yearnings you can’t shake, whispers of another way woo you towards your evolution, and yet you grow so tired of always trying to grow taller.

And so we continue to gather the bits of strange evidence, the clues to our earthly significance, why we’re here at all. We never stop wondering- What is this life really?

Today, I think, I’ll settle for this semi-summed-up, good enough response and smile at its awe-full truth:

Life is one long and messy celebration of our mediocrity, our feeble efforts and faithful attempts to love the whole damn world and everything in it, including (and especially) ourselves.

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