Why is it that life seems to squeeze out all capability of life? The first life is just the daily grind of activities, obligations, chores, and discomforts. It is everything that consumes our efforts and thoughts – the pain and difficulty of relationships and losses, and especially the weariness, the illness, the psychological and physiological effects of all of it. That life gets in the way and stifles the potential for real life. It is stifling.
Real life squeezes in through the cracks in the other life, typically at inopportune moments. Real life is often pesky and irritating, like a little boy who keeps asking you to play ball. It’s relentless and somewhat annoying for being so. It’s annoying because you don’t have time, much less energy, to play ball, even though you’d love nothing more, because life demands your attention. So real life becomes the obnoxious one – always poking its head in, begging for attention, like rays of sunshine breaking through the clouds, screaming, “LOOK AT ME. I’M BEAUTIFUL!”
Just like the bird singing at the top of its lungs from our backyard tree at 6:45 this morning in the freezing weather. Doesn’t that bird know that life is happening? I actually spoke out loud to that bird as I got into my car to go to work: “Don’t you have anything better to do on such a cold morning? Get a life!”