Stoking the fire

How do we know when what we're doing is worth it? Rarely will anyone ever tell us, and most of the time, we debate that within ourselves. Is it something we have to convince ourselves of, or does the feeling just fall from the sky? Could it be the man begging for money on the street divider—that could be your sign?

As I sit here circled around the cracking fire, tossing sticks and rolling logs over, my angsty and intrusive thoughts manage to break through even in a place like this. At times, I can't help but wonder whether I'm in the right place, doing the right thing. I ask myself, "Should I be doing more? Am I wasting time here?" But no, a minute out in nature is never wasted. Why consider it wasted? Is it an investment? To say to anyone that you're wasting something implies you think of that thing as an investment from which you're expecting some return. If nothing comes, you've wasted precious time, resources, and energy. I'm sure this is a relatable idea to many people—this feeling of estrangement wherever you go. I don’t have the answers, and if I did, I don’t think I’d share them.

I ask myself, am I putting this challenge on myself for the self-righteous glory of it, the right to boast on social media, the short glorification I’ll receive from family and friends afterward, or just simply for the sadistic pleasure of it? Most things in my life have become such a chase of pain, and I wonder how far this pain can take me. But is it all worth it? How do I determine that? Is it pointless to even ponder those thoughts? Why is it so difficult to accept things and be content with where I am, what I’m doing, and who I’m with?