What's Your Reason?
Now, this may seem like an odd question. And it is. But as I move through life and observe a wide array of humans on a daily basis, I find myself wanting to ask each person the following question:
"What's your reason?"
For having kids? For eating cereal? For making friends? For waking up in the morning? For...living?
...for the latter two. They are questions about sustainability. That is, how do you keep going everyday? What keeps you going? Simply: what's your reason?
I ask this because I find the most perplexing aspect of life to be the amount of repetition involved. Or, more specifically, the amount of repetition that is widely understood and accepted. It's hard for me to grasp—how do so many people, including myself, get up each day and do what they do? And then get up and do it again the next day? Oh but wait, here comes two days called Saturday and Sunday to "take a break." But keep going! Nothing actually stops for you to catch your breath—not time nor your mind.
For some, this question isn't important or relevant—the matter of why they keep going. Some don't think about the repetition involved in their lives, most often because they lack the privilege to step back and do so. For these people, no other way of life is available. For these people, their reason is survival. And I am painfully spoiled in the sense that I do possess the privilege to question. And to overthink. And to wonder.
I do possess the privilege to look past sheer survival and to pick apart the quality of my survival—to question the purpose of survival. And for this reason exactly, I hesitate to share these thoughts. I am aware of the position I am in and my possession of the privilege to have the privilege to question these matters.
But I also am feeling my feelings and thinking my thoughts. And I feel both privileged and burdened by that reality.
Regardless, I ask myself and others: What's your reason?
I would be alarmed if somebody had an answer. I'd be alarmed if they responded with a person's name; a future goal; a place; a memory. In my twenty years of life, I've found that my reason changes not just daily, but momentarily. My reason feels nonexistent sometimes. My reason feels robust and multifold sometimes. My reason feels rooted within me sometimes. My reason feels rooted within the artificial sometimes—or the superficial. And my reason feels...unreasonable. Often.
I always used to think that I was only allowed one, main reason. Because that would make me, me—right?
I should have one, static reason—just like I should have one, static color that's my favorite and one, static flair ("She's the funny one! She's the sporty one who;s really into soccer." "She's the edgy one—always has silver nails").
But reasons are alive. A reason is a justification. A justification is a good reason for something. And what is deemed reasonable fluctuates; depends on the person; changes as we change; is not absolute.
Our job as humans? To choose a reason everyday, whether we're making it up or not. Or to notice a reason—as one always does exist. To be gracious. To be thoughtful. To be inquisitive. To welcome growth and change.
So, right now, what's your reason? Why do you live like you live? What was it yesterday? Or an hour ago? Maybe these are things to think about.