Eternal restlessness. It follows you everywhere you go, pushing you further and further. It denies you anything more than the briefest moments of contentment. You can look for satisfaction in a million different ways and never find it. It is the lie we tell ourselves, that we can be happy if we just do something, or have something, or be something.
Maybe the point of being restless is to remind us that we are not okay unless we are making some kind of progress. We live in a world that marches ceaselessly forward, because if the world loses that momentum then it will just fall apart. Our lives are all of those tiny little parts that keep the machine of the world turning.
I don't want to be restless, but sometimes I worry that it's just who I am. That no matter where I am or what I do my soul will never be satisfied enough to count its blessings. But I have to believe that there is a point where it's possible to be content. I will never stop searching for that elusive and pleasant state of existence.
The heart pulls us in unique and complicated ways. It is always leading us to people and places and experiences. We pass through all the stops and the hurts and the disappointments because our restlessness is leading us. Sometimes it seems like a blind and ceaseless pursuit, but eventually we will reach the end.
I believe that. I know it's coming, somewhere, somehow. My heart and the world it lives in give me more and more clues with each passing day. Moments of reckoning so strong that I am compelled to listen, though I cannot always see it clearly through the pain and sadness. It is close enough now that I can feel it. Peace is there, waiting for me.