Here in the Northern-most segment of the Northeast, the Spring Equinox has come and gone – and still we are buried in snow. We huddle in our houses, hunkered down in a period of extended-hibernation, waiting for the first sure sign of…something.

        In my day job, as an over-educated, well-paid slave, I convene with the other over-educated, well-paid slaves as we take care of our charges, watching them for the initial symptoms of…something.

     As I lose myself in the writing of my novel, however, I find that time slips by without my noticing it. Hour after hour passes too quickly, and instead of waiting/watching for something and finding nothing, I realize that I am actually doing something.

This doing is, I believe, the secret of happiness. When we, the fragile creatures known as human beings, dance too close to the precipice, that dividing line between waiting/watching and doing, we put ourselves in grave danger of falling off of it- of wasting our lives.

     
  An excess of watching and waiting can, if we’re not careful, be our undoing.

 

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