On the completion of Life

What is the problem? The problem is, remains, always-and-already one of time. The problem is, I have so much I wish to do, craving in a fervent spirit to engage the world in endlessly flourishing ways. Of course, I hope to record the album that perhaps touches a soul or two. I would like to eventually write something toward the existential, perhaps a formal book, perhaps a novel, perhaps both. I yearn to spend my days simply walking through the days of Autumn, crunching the dry leaves and watching the excitement of another school year in some small town in which I now reside. I hope to find God, maybe have a heart-to-heart with Him.

In my golden years, withered and wise, will I collapse into an old rocking chair with a sigh, relieved but exhausted to finally have completed life's rich endeavors? I doubt it! Will a time surface when life has been "finished" and the lush valley of "relaxing" can begin? Unlikely. The problem remains, always-and-already, that life is incomplete by nature. The difficulty is living into this, in spite of this. Then again, is this really the "problem" of life? Or, rather, is it that incompleteness which gives life, makes it full? Is being incomplete and finite a cosmic curse, or is it a Divine blessing?

Fellow travelers,

My apologies for not being more present to the blog. Appalled when viewing the date of my last entry, I feel ashamed for my existential abandonment of this blog. I am here, still existing. I am in the midst of much school turmoil, but shall return, and soon. I promise.