Recently, one quote caught my attention: "You know... my whole life I have been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted, until I discovered that my interruptions were my work." (Henri Nouwen). How true.
You know there are a few catchy titles nowadays like "girl interrupted" and "Jesus interrupted". For me, it is "life interrupted". Work is one of them, amongst others.
We are supposed to follow our bliss. But sometimes our bliss is a mirage of hope. We mistake our bliss for material success and we miss out on the real thing. So, we blindly follow our bliss into the insatiable abyss.
Has my strive to be recognized at work, my competitive spirit to impress, and my ambition to climb that career ladder become a personal obsession that I have exposed my loved ones to suffer as collateral damage? Have I traded my purpose in life for work? Am I lull into a belief that life is work and work is life?
I think that life has to be interrupted; sometimes even rudely awakened with a basin of cold water. I need to wake up to what's important, not what's urgent. I need to see a purpose beyond the 9 to 5. I need to stop mistaking means as ends, that is, work as end and passion for it as means to that end. Love misplaced is life displaced. If love is not the end of it all, then all endeavours are a fool's errand.
So back to basics I guess. Back to the time I first got married. Back to the first kiss. Back to the time I held my son's pinky finger at the hospital nursery. Back to the time I change my daughter's diapers. Back to my first confession and the first time I knelt at the altar. Back to the crossroad before I chose a path of mirages. Back to the road less travelled. Back to hope. Back to faith. Back to life. Back to love. Cheerz.