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December 1, 2004 12:30 AM
Lately, I have this Doogie-Howserish yearning to end my day with a written reflection. Not sure why, but I guess that's what blogs are for . . . even semi-abandoned ones. Today I wrestle with the need for meaning. I want every day to be significant, to fit into some kind of overall pattern. I'm addicted to symbol, I guess. I want each passage of the sun to be something more than itself: a metaphor. An organic lesson. An emerging revelation. Heck, I want every moment to be significant in this way. But I'd settle for every day. Instead, I'm mostly faced with random happenings, inconsistencies, faux-riddles . . . they seduce my attention but, having no real answer, prove to be a waste of time. In the place of meaning I have comfort, and money, and companionship, which I value. And sometimes I think I shouldn't worry about seeking anything beyond that. My life is a paradise of sorts (nervous disorders and constant anxiety aside). Why do I search my Eden for more complicated fruit? The ability to discern symbolic meaning, to find greater significance within - or impose it upon - the world around us, is a distinctly human pursuit. It is also, apparently, the hallmark of the insane. So what am I supposed to do? Keep searching? Get a labotomy? Join another church? Cry? |
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