Distracted

Sometimes I think that life is a series of distractions. We’re distracted by needs and wants…by desires. Work is a distraction that pays and play is the distraction we work for all day or week or year. Good deeds distract us from the bad and bad deeds are the result of desire born of the need to be distracted.

But distracted from what? If life is an endless series of distractions, wouldn’t that mean that there was something underneath it all that we’re trying so desperately to mask? Is it that at our core we understand that this is all meaningless and even as we attempt to ascribe meaning to it through religion or attempts at immortality through creative acts, we understand that there is nothing to this life but the distractions?

Just the time with our loved ones. Just the play. Just the waking up and doing. Just the quiet time thinking about anything but the emptiness.

If that’s all there is, my friends, then let’s keep dancing…