I've never been really good at relaxing. My whole life has felt like I'm being driven, driven, driven to suceed; and not necessarily suceed by my own definition. Recently I've felt like I'm being driven but as I turn to glance behind me to see who is pushing so hard, I'm surprised to see no one there.
Once again I am thrown back onto the never ending mobius strip of self evaluation. Rethinking my choices, beliefs, and self image always seems to engross most of my spare minutes.
I pause from my self-imposed driving long enough to look around. I pick up my eyes and make sure that the goal I'm driving towards holds more for me than just more driving. I remember that I'm not here just for the driving, but for the goal.
The thing that makes the driving not a grueling pointless effort, but rather a refining processes. A way to strengthen my muscels and resolve. A method to shape and mold me into a greater person than a life without the driving could produce.
And for that I tuck my head back down, pick up the plow and move on. But this time, with direction.