It just occurred to me that all our lifetime is spent waiting for something.
When we are conceived, I believe our parents wait expectantly for us to be born, and when we get born, we take over the baton in the waiting game. In school, we wait and wait: for recess, for school to be over, as we rush headlong for the exit. Once at home, we can’t wait to finish our lunch and head out to play, leaving our clothes strewn on the floor for mom to clean up after us, and our half-eaten lunch.
We wait anxiously for exams and then wait for the result. After that novelty has worn off, we look forward to starting our life as independent beings. We send applications to jobs and wait. We wait for the right person to walk into our life so we can get married. We wait for our kids to be born; we wait for promotions to make it to the top. And so, it goes on. Waiting. Waiting. Until we arrive at the last day of our lives.
In between, our lives are filled with other activities, but all of them involve waiting in one form or another. We wait impatiently at traffic signals in the rush hour traffic. We save and wait for that vacation, and then wait in interminable lines to board the plane that would take us to our destination.
Clever scientists tell us that our existence happens in quanta, in minuscule packets of time, rather than one flowing motion. Like the ticking of a clock. Tick tock, tick tock, as we jump from packet to packet. Our real existence actually happens in that tiny fragment of time, the 30 or 40 seconds, that constitutes actual reality.
Well, these were some random thoughts; I don’t want to go on and get boring