Humans are, it seems, completely incapable of seeing how life pulses. Yes, it oscillates but if you’re paying enough attention you’ll notice its patterns. How it ebbs and flows, the cycles of its rises and falls. But I tend to dwell in the minor details and miss the bigger picture. And perhaps that’s because I am always consumed with something.
My favorite flavor of fixation changing every few months. But I never deviate from this pattern. There hasn’t ever been a moment in my life where I had my hands in many pies or even where I simply rocked with the waves and let it all happen to me. There is always a mission, there is always a bigger thing to run at. And then circumstances change and I’m on to the next big thing. But I’ll revisit fixations many times throughout the years, there is a reason after all why I’m was consumed by them. But I always fail to notice when they move in and eclipse my life and how when they left there was always one waiting to take its place. There is seldom stillness, I rarely just am.
Perhaps this epiphany should bring me peace. Maybe knowing that my life is an endless pursuit of something at all times, endlessly clawing at a shapeless hope, I can make different choices. But then what choices would am I to make? You see, I like the spoils of my aimless turmoils. I would miss the lively feeling of purpose that came with something to be conquered. It doesn’t matter that none of it mattered and may not even be important to me in a few months.
Consumption is what makes life worth living for humans. No, not that same old tired diatribe about the human’s fascination with accumulation. They want to be consumed by something, always. They want to be breathlessly in love, they want to be ambitiously employed, they want to be current in all things that society favors, they want to hunger for things exotic and mysterious, they want to be moved by literature and art. It is simply their way.