Writing my book with no ending …

“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” – T. S. Eliot


With the sun’s awakening of the sky, my role as an explorer becomes clearer.  I am learning in this role that each day I travel a journey.  These journeys are comprised of the unknown paths of this explorer which may at times consist of steps where the distance covered is hardly noticeable while at other times the steps reach out beyond the horizon.  These daily travels … these incremental journeys … each is constantly moving and each collectively change my personal landscape forever.

Life’s meant to be so … separate travels lived in momentary increments … collectively tied together.  And the product is my life … my story … a story whose ending has yet to be seen or sensed but known to exist out beyond some unclear horizon.  And my task … my choice and accepted responsibility is to write … create new and exciting chapters to build upon this ever-expanding novel.

And the excitement is great for I see I am more creator than observer, actively engaged in this process still taking shape in my mind.  I create and write chapters regardless of their color or clarity.  An exciting process without end … explore, discover, then add this explorer’s experiences to my book of life until my hand no longer can hold the pen, nor my mind create the thought.  It is a book with no ending.  A book simply made up of chapters yet to be defined but influenced by my choices and the spirit with which I engage.  A book that will ever expand until my life force transends to its next phase.  Create rather than observe … then capture, reflect, then move on … such a wonderful opportunity!  An interesting pursuit this thing called “life” … an interesting responsibility and role one may choose to accept … very interesting … very interesting indeed …

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