Breathing

So, this year started with me sulking out of reluctance to get back to work and life as usual. It isn't that I don't like my work (because I really do love it), it's just that I don't wanna work, generally speaking. Or, I don't wanna life, in short. There are times when I feel like saying "I am so done with everything" just because... I am. But I know well enough what could bring me back to life--action. That which I don't wanna take up.

But because I am supposedly organizing something, I needed to defy my slacker self and take that leap out of my comfort zone (watching movies and series, reading books, napping). That was just this week that has passed. And because of that, I'm back to life. Excited for it even. And I realized that everything is just a cycle with different decorative moments. You get tired and fired up and tired again and fired up for another moment before getting tired again.

Does life has a solution to its own absurdity? Uh, well, I guess everything starts in the mind. There was this question that keeps popping out of my books (because it's written in a bookmark), that says "What are you living for?", and unless answered, you would live your life demotivated over everything and anything because you don't know where you're headed to.


I know very well what my answer to that is. But is it possible that you can get tired of yourself just because of you wanting to live like the way you want to? It's just that I find myself absolutely weird most times. I have this great great vision that involves not just myself but the entire humanity (yea, I'm that kind of dreamer), and there are times when I find myself just falling apart because of that. Maybe the greatness of my vision sometimes makes me wonder.

But pondering upon things makes me rediscover that these things aren't all mine to begin with. My life, my vision, my time. I should be reminded that I am not living for myself anymore, and when I decided to take leaps of faith that brought me here, I decided to be ready to the pains and numbness that may be brought forth before me. It isn't the absurdity of having a Creator who predetermined all else. It is the beauty of it. Most times, I find the wonderfulness of not being the one who owns everything I have, and just being the steward of it. I am answerable before the Owner, but I can be rescued by Him.

At times when I feel like I am just a moment passing into cycles, I have to remember that cycle as it may seem, this life has its own end--a defining conclusion to everything that has revolved and rotated as I breathed. This life isn't for me anymore. My breathing isn't for me anymore. Never mine in the first place. I was entrusted to handle it, and and it's up to me how I live it. And at the end of it, when the Owner asks me how I lived it, could I look Him in the eye and say, "Well, did I live it."?