I've found myself daydreaming so often throughout the day that I have to laugh. I've always considered myself to be a thinker. I always considered my thinking to be an active exercise of intention and focus. And yet, these daydreams are anything but. Lacking focus. An exercise in passivity is more like it. An exercise in creativity is more like it. I won't squash this spirit, but I have to laugh. Daydreaming on the train, daydreaming before bed, daydreaming pacing the house. What I could have said, who I could be, who I must be. Daydreams. Thinking. They feel the same, don't they? Lost in thought. More like captured by it. Creative. I may glean useful tools from these musings, but who's driving the bus. And why do I find myself engaged with these fantasies so much of the time? I have to ask myself, "Who's tending to the now while I'm away?" I've spent much of my life aspiring toward some future goal or longing for a place, person, or thing long gone. What's so bad about the present? That awake of rain and pain and bitter morning chill. What's so bad about being awake? I don't know.
And you, this world is starting to scare me. Maybe it always did. That awake is different. Now I'm just a man. And without a doubt, that is better than whatever came before. I will build something from this firm foundation.
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