The pressure of a thousand pounds pushes onto me. Can you relate to that? One thousand pounds – the weight of a bull shark – which probably helps with your relationship to the measurement slightly less. Turns out, someone’s erected a sculpture of butter that apparently weighs one thousand pounds. Again, probably hard to picture that amount of weight atop you, suffocating any effort to remove such a mass. Have you ever felt this metaphorical weight against your chest, whole body, or head?

The pressure to move one’s self into a position greater than that which they are currently seems to have consumed my thoughts, taking hold there as if it were a giant screw being turned daily. I think to myself, “imagine the screwdriver”, but in fact it wouldn’t need to be any bigger than a normal-sized screwdriver to still turn a giant screw.

It’s not the “greater position” that is even desired when such consumption happens, but the feeling of success, or growth, or novelty, or… Maybe I’m just at a point in my life where I sometimes I just feel like I don’t know where to go from here. Does this feel like a complaint in some way? My life is entirely amazing, which may but likely does not offset any sentiment  similar but not limited to “whining” that these words provoke. And maybe not knowing where to go from here comes from not knowing where I want to go from here. In reality I’ll soon be going to Kenya to work for CURE, a year-long life-altering event for which I could not be any more excited.

However, already I’m being asked, “So, what happens after the year?” Can’t I just get there and find out? We can even find out together, all of us. Maybe I’ll actually enjoy what I’m doing enough to continue doing it, maybe I’ll move to another country and do the same type of work there, maybe I’ll come home and be a social worker, or wait tables, or open a small business. Maybe I’ll continue to try as many different things as I’m interested in until I find one that I want to do “forever”. I don’t know what the year holds for me, I don’t know what I’ll do afterward, or in a month. I don’t even know what I’m eating for lunch and we act like thoughts of years into the future should have already formulated a lasted plan in my mind.

Simply not the way I choose to live. Sure, we have ideas of what may come into our lives, what we may want to do in a year or five, but unless we make a conscious effort through desiring those events the likelihood of those ideas actualizing is slight.

I mean, for goodness sakes I can’t even choose a common theme for a blog! How on Earth am I suppose to choose a common theme for my life? Better yet, why would it be a bad thing if I couldn’t? For now, I’ll continue doing what makes me happy now and what I think will make me a happier person in the future. That’s as far ahead as I feel the need to look.

Is that naive, or immature, or selfish?