We create ourselves by our choices. – Søren Kierkegaard
In my house there are a hundred half-done poems.
Each of us leaves an unfinished life.
– Mary Oliver, Thinking of Swirler
It’s an oddity in my character, admittedly, that I linger with poetry and well up with emotion over words. After a particularly stunning pink swirling sky at sunrise I could think of nothing better to do with my morning coffee than pair it with Mary Oliver. Life is a series of choices, one quietly laid upon the other, carrying us to eternity. I’ll regret many, but not this one.
What will we create in our time here? What will we leave unfinished? These are the questions of a lifetime, and the questions of each day.
I’ve mentally cast aside this blog dozens of times, but each morning I wake up and write anyway. It isn’t the writing that challenges and mocks me, it’s measuring up to the words. Knowing what’s unfinished, knowing the choices that make up a lifetime. Waking up with a chance to measure up once again.