A Stage

Dissatisfaction exists throughout history. Even during times of relative prosperity, some will feel suffocated by conformity. Rules that comfort in chaos, oppress under order. Society is ever in flux, swaying from one end to the other.

Satisfaction in life, therefore, does not come from a particular state of society. And one’s position in society is merely a game of dress-up. Some will intimidate, imagining themselves king of the playground, some will be bullied, perhaps direly so, while others play house, some soldier, builder, or shopkeeper — acting out their own roles. But whichever your role, play it well, enjoying the performance. Even the villain has his part to play.

We are compelled to act, forced through urges — either we accept our role or suffer from a lack of fulfillment. Our conscious mind may misunderstand our role, yet impulses direct us from scene to scene. Attraction, repulsion, we’re pushed and pulled along, buffeted from without and within. But underlying this storm of tossing waves, lies the deep still waters below.

There is an unchanging foundation to this stage, something that keeps the lights on, manufactures the sets and scenery, and churns out the endless stream of actors night after night. The play never stops, the plots reoccurring, the roles all the same, simply recast. But when a scene’s intensity proves too much, recall this facet of life — know its play-like nature — realizing it’s only ever a game of pretend.


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