Coffins

“Each day is a new box. You open it, take a look at what's inside, and only you can decide whether it's a gift, or a coffin.”

I've had enough coffins to balance the gifts. Sometimes the gifts outweigh the coffins, other times the coffins are all there is. But in the end, a balance is always achieved. 

The best moments are those in between the coffins and the gifts. That's when I learn the most about life, about people, and about myself. The stark difference between the two sheds light on things that I may have been too blinded to see. 

I’m not the same person I was last year, last month, last week, or even yesterday. Sometimes it's a bit too difficult to realize that, and that's why I write, to record what I learn and to attempt to make sense of the constant change that I and the world around me undergo every single day. 

Life is never stale, it never stops or pauses. Sometimes it goes a bit too fast, and all I would want is to hit pause. Sometimes it feels dead, same routine day in and day out, for days, for weeks, for months, to the point that an irrational impulse seems like a good idea just to break the routine. But in reality, in that brief moment between a coffin and a gift, I realize that life wasn't going too fast or too slow, but that I had simply lost perspective. 

Between the rage that comes with the coffins, and the serenity that comes with gifts, I regain perspective. I take a step back, detach myself from everything, focus on the moment, and I take it all in. Then, I move forward.

A friend of mine once told me that life is all about flow, and perhaps there's some truth to what that knucklehead was saying.