Change

I was thinking about something that happened some other time and then the elevator door opened on the floor my future was heading towards.

So many routines become just that. We fail to realize what they really mean, whether they are necessary or merely incidental, almost accidents of life or choices made which lead to other choices and result in a series of repeated actions, like meals, commuting, regular visits, a route, a routine. We do this thing or series of things over and over, and at some point we barely think about it.

Then one day the reason goes away and we no longer need to do that series of things we have done almost without thinking for so long. There’s a sense of loss or a feeling of liberation. Regardless which, there’s a change and maybe new insight into what was going on.

Other routines also then may go away, and it can seem like a chair you were used to sitting on is now missing a leg, or the frame of a house disappears one two-by-four at a time until the building is no longer there at all. Is it like a dog used to playing fetch suddenly becoming aware there is no point to getting the ball or the stick?

How did this start? Why did I not see the end until it ended? Why did I only understand then what had been going on, only after it ended and the ball or stick, the chair missing a leg, became as meaningless as a distant, continuous sound that could be water, could be air, could be traffic, could be hearing loss, but turns out to be nothing at all, not even actually there, something in my head with no presence in the outside world?

KLK