The search for self, the search for answers, the search for the meaning of life, what am I doing here? What is all this for? No more questions.
The search for God ends…
I do believe that in the midst of our pain and difficulties, in the midst of the pervasive feeling that we are engaged in, that our day to day is pointless, dull, a road to nowhere, we want something or someone to sweep in and give us a point, show us the exact path, give us all the answers that will alleviate our pain, provide excitement and purpose and satisfy the unexplainable longing that burns like a low-grade flame somewhere deep within.
We want someone or something to sweep in, grab us by the hand, whisk us away from our daily drudgery, our dreary, boring existence and bring us to a place of sunshine and blue skies and clear water. Pink drinks with umbrellas in them and reggae music playing in the background (always too loud). No cares, no stress, no pain, no worries. Wasting away in Margueritaville with all the answers.
But here’s my question: How long can a girl sit on a barstool in the middle of paradise before she gets bored?
In other words what do we do when the search comes to an end?
Eternity is a long time…