Ink SpillThe constant need to do what’s useful.
I remember in childhood where we used play all day, hiding in the streets and gardens, living in make-believe where a rock is an intergalactic space ship and the pillow was the mountain of eternal doom.
We found joy in the moment, we were excited basically doing anything.
Now it feels like every moment needs to be spent doing something useful. Either learning, working, cooking, preparing, cleaning, thinking.
Spending our time in leisure makes our mind disgruntled. It bombards us with thoughts of better things to do, reminds us of all the things we’ve set out to do and how we’re not doing them.
It feels like we’ve lost our kindred spirit for a hard working one.
We must put the effort, we must be in toil, for our death is near and we must lay the land, plant the seeds, nurture our younglings, for time is running, there is no time for leisure. We must plan for our day of harvest, the day where our deeds are brought in front of us and we’re called to answer for our actions.
Childhood was a blessing, a taste of what pure innocent joy can be.
But it’s only a taste.
For now we must work, so we can attain our long lasting leisure, our eternal bliss and joy.