My expectations of life tend to differ from what I’m actually presented with. I don’t choose these expectations, they’re just the ideas that float into my thought stream. But when I’m struck with the obvious mismatch, I find it unpleasant, so much so that I seek out ideas to help justify the discrepancy and settle my discomfort.
Obviously I’d prefer to have ideas that already correspond with what I witness, or vice versa. I find it odd that I should have these seemingly unrealistic ideas — why not have thoughts that perfectly match my surroundings? So instead of actively participating in life, I’m typically sitting silently, wondering, “what’s going on here, what is this place!?”.
To me, life is a riddle to solve, a mystery to unmask. Because my expectations seem so off-kilter, I lack enthusiasm to engage. Lacking a foundation on which to stand, I am without bearings by which to navigate. If I don’t know where I am, then where am I to go? If lost in the woods, is it not recommended to remain still? And so I sit.
Sitting and observing life is pleasant — it’s the disruption from sitting, the excessive engagement, I find unpleasant. But as it will, life tends to force my active participation from time to time, which can be jarring, but sometimes enjoyable — and it’s nice to take breaks from quiet contemplation. I’ve often wondered if life will eventually align with my thoughts when I reach a certain age, because it feels as though I’ve been waiting for something. And so I wait.