We modern folk often create goals as merely shiny gold stars to mark our "progress" in life, when all we are really doing is collecting marks on a page, forgetting to notice the day-to-day beauty and meaning in our lives, and instead continually focusing on what's next.
As a young child, I remember loving the unexpected, but I didn't think I always needed to orchestrate it, I simply needed to be open to it. I played outside, poking around with a stick, turning over leaves, digging in dirt, discovering delight in what some might call the ordinary.
After starting school and becoming more enculturated, I came to realize that this sort of piddling play isn't valued much. To make "progress," I had to have something to show for it. Thus, the question formed and has been repeated over and over again in my life and in ripples throughout our culture: When is enough, ENOUGH?
