All our antics are aimed at proving to ourselves and to the rest of the world – whoever be watching, whoever be remotely interested – that we are not immaterial, that we do leave a scratch behind, deep or negligible, that a grain of sand has shifted because we existed…
If everyone shifts the same old grains of sand, our efforts become ordinary, compelling us to begin again, a short distance from where we had started, and add to our efforts to edge forward, rolling up huge globes of clay without seeming to, pushing them up the hill and letting them roll back down… often without a spot of hope. Because each life matters; must matter… we must make a difference…
Everything we do boils down to this unconscious, and sometimes glaringly conscious, dread of being moored, through the relentless passage of time. Of being motionless when the World, in its infinite hurry, passes us by.
A Fear of Having Done Nothing.
A Fear of Not Making the Best Out of This Life.
A Fear of Not Grabbing Opportunities as They Flashed Past.
A Fear of Not Having Knocked on Doors Hard Enough.
A Fear of Regretting Doing Nothing.
“The Cab is at the Door. The Letter is in your hand. All you need is a touch of Courage…”