Reflections.

There are mornings when I awaken with the curious feeling that something has changed, although nothing around me appears particularly different. The room is familiar. The light arrives through the same window. Somewhere beyond the walls, the world is already attending to its endless collection of responsibilities. There are things to accomplish, decisions to make, people to remember, and possibilities waiting patiently for their turn. Yet, for a moment, none of them seems particularly urgent. I am simply here. And there is something wonderfully satisfying about that.

For much of my life, I believed that a meaningful existence required a certain amount of forward movement. There were ambitions to pursue, accomplishments to celebrate, obstacles to overcome, and dreams whose fulfillment seemed to promise an eventual sense of arrival. I was not entirely mistaken. There is joy in accomplishment, satisfaction in meaningful work, and considerable pleasure in discovering what we are capable of creating. But somewhere along the way, I began to recognize a distinction I had previously overlooked.

There is a difference between building a life and being at home within it. And I have come to think of that difference in terms of coherence.