Walking home today, I found myself struggling with the question that’s plagued me the last few weeks and months: will it matter in a year? Five years? A century? Will what I’m pouring my life’s energy into be worth remembering in anyone’s future?
I struggled to find my meaningful “place” in the world.
Then MBF reminded me that I am struggling with that question because it’s a choice I am able to make for myself. It’s an incredible luxury to be able to pick and choose what I do to make a living, who I spend my time with, whether I eat meat, veggies, or home-delivered organic local foods, whether I walk or bike or drive one of my five vehicles to work daily, whether I upgrade to iOS 6, whether to keep my old iPhone (the horror), or whether I set aside enough time to study for a pass/fail class I’m taking on the weekends.
These are all amazing luxuries I have that I call problems.
Forget first-world problems. Forget white-people problems. I’ve got problems the 1% would envy.
This is an incredibly humbling, shaming, and amazing moment for me.
I’m no closer to finding that meaningful application of my life, but at least I can see that just having the chance to consider it is a wonderful thing.