There’s a difference between being lost and being done.
Most people can’t tell which is which — and I’m learning that neither can I, until I stop trying to make sense of it.
Lately, I’ve felt a kind of emptiness. Not depression. Not despair. Just… flat.
The drive that once fuelled everything — building, creating, pushing — has gone quiet.
And in that silence, I can finally hear the truth I kept working too hard to avoid.
This isn’t collapse.
It’s alignment.
The Hevel
Ecclesiastes calls life Hevel — vapor.
The critic in that book didn’t say life was meaningless. He said its meaning was ungraspable.
Every time I reach out to control, to build something solid, it slips through my fingers like smoke.
I used to think that was failure.
Now I see it’s wisdom.
Maybe the point was never to hold the vapor — but to feel it on your skin before it vanishes.
The Ache
A video found me the other day — or maybe I found it “by chance.”
It spoke of a homesickness spreading through people who can no longer pretend that normal life makes sense.
Not sadness — sensitivity.
Not burnout — alignment.
That dull ache, that boredom, that sense of not belonging anywhere… it’s the soul tuning itself to a new frequency.
The noise of the world feels thinner now.
The rush to produce, to perform, to stay relevant — it all looks like a simulation running on old code.
And in its place, I feel a pull toward silence, nature, slower breaths and a presence that doesn’t need an audience.
Getting Out of the Way
I once wrote: Get out of the way.
It felt like advice at the time. Now it feels like commandment.
God, Life, the Universe — whatever name you give it — doesn’t need your micromanagement.
It needs your surrender.
Every time I force meaning, I block grace. Every time I grasp, I lose flow.
Maybe I’ve already built what I was meant to build.
Maybe the next step isn’t to push harder, but to step aside and let what’s been created finally fly.
The Realignment
Ecclesiastes ends with this: Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.
Maybe that isn’t fear as punishment, but reverence — the awe that comes when you stop pretending you’re in charge.
So for now, I wait.
Not lazily, not in defeat — but as one who’s learning to trust again.
The silence I’ve been resisting might not be emptiness at all.
It might be the sound of a new world pressing closer.
Because maybe nothing is falling apart.
Maybe it’s falling into place.
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