There once was a man who was tired with life. He knows existence couldn’t have always been this exhausting, that there was a time where he experienced the ever changing world around him through virgin eyes, but even knowing this, it seems he’s been tired for as long as he can remember. Looking back, when he was just a kid, it was so easy to separate his sense of self from his actions. With seemingly all the time in the world at his disposal his identity didn’t feel nearly as connected to his accomplishments as it would grow to be, but with age and habitual repetition, who we are and what legacy we leave behind slowly but surely becomes entwined with what we do. The man was not ashamed of what he did for a living, nor was his work exhausting in itself. In fact, the man felt ashamed of his exhaustion, remorseful that he can feel so tired of an existence that so many others pray for every night. He had a job with stable pay, a home to call his own, and a family to fill the walls of his otherwise empty home. He had achieved everything he had been told would bring him happiness, but as he rolled out of bed each morning and as his head hit the pillow each night he never truly felt happy, only tired. He was tired of the mundane routine that had become his life. Every morning the man woke up at six a.m. sharp to shower and shave, grab a piece of toast, and make his dreadful morning commute. He was tired of the countless hours of his life he had wasted each day sitting stagnant in traffic, he was tired of waking up at the crack of dawn only to be met with the sounds honking horns and angry commuters, and he was tired of toast. He would work hard from eight to four each and every day in a job that kept the lights on but never kept his spirit lit. He would make the very same dreadful commute home afterward, arriving at his familiar address to sit down and half enjoy his regular six o’clock meal with his family. Hearing about his kid’s days and seeing the life in their eyes reminds him of better times, but when the tables turn and it’s his time to share he can rarely muster up more of a response than “My day was fine.”, glancing down at his food to avoid his families gaze. The dinner table that was once alive with food, love, and conversation often fell silent after that, and soon the table would empty out as each family member went their separate ways. Then, after all of this, it would repeat. He went on to raise a family but not much more, to fulfill the roles he had always been told he should, but never finding fulfillment in life…

There once was a man who was tired with life. He knows existence couldn’t have always been this exhausting, that there was a time where he experienced the ever changing world around him through virgin eyes, but even knowing this, it seems he’s been tired for as long as he can remember. Looking back, when he was just a kid, it was so easy to separate his sense of self from his actions. With seemingly all the time in the world at his disposal his identity didn’t feel nearly as connected to his accomplishments as it would grow to be, but with age and habitual repetition, who we are and what legacy we leave behind slowly but surely becomes entwined with what we do. Knowing this, and unable to continue living a life drained of purpose for any longer, the man fought his exhaustion for life by living even more. Rather performing his daily responsibilities because he had to, he went about his day doing everything because he wanted to. The alarm he had once set for six a.m. was pushed back to five fifty, allowing him the ten minutes he needed at the beginning of the day to be alone and reflect. Instead of dreading his commute to work, he began using that time to listen to music from his youth that had once inspired him, drowning out the sounds of the highway chaos which surrounded him. Rather than showing up to work to do his job and little more, he began arriving to work each day with the purpose of performing to the best of his ability. That way, when he sat down with his family each night, when the tables turned and it was his time to share about his day, he could at least tell them about how hard he had worked throughout the day and feel proud of his labor. The change was not immediate or evident at first, but with age and habitual repetition, who we are and what legacy we leave behind slowly but surely becomes entwined with what we do.

I've witnessed too many people, including myself, become caught up in the repetition of day to day life. As human's, we are by nature creatures of habit. The trick is not to abandon our nature, but to refuse to find ourselves as slaves to habit. In this I mean rather than allowing the repetitiveness of life to wear you down while unconsciously going through the motions, make habits which help you appreciate the little things in your day, and make it a habit to do what matters to you. Do not fall victim to this vicious cycle, but break the chain by adding purpose to each and every action you do. Don’t be afraid to live life at the edge of your comfort zone, because there, at the edge, happiness and prosperity can be found. Happiness is not found in the comfort which coincides with fulfilling your daily responsibilities, no, happiness is found in the fulfillment of ourselves, our hopes, our dreams, and our spirits. So do not be like the first man. Follow the lead of the second and realize the importance of not just nurturing the needs each day presents in front of you, but rather the significance in nurturing your own spiritual growth through finding new purpose in what can seem like the most insignificant of instances.