I woke up last night, in the dead of night, and couldn’t fall back asleep for a long time. Tossing and turning in bed, I was writing a blog in my mind. Words lined up one after another, thoughts flowed like mother’s milk that hadn’t been expressed for too long, creating clear images described by sequences of sentences. But I wasn’t awake or wise enough to get up and write them down. I was sure that in the morning, I would rise and effortlessly put down what was already almost a finished piece. Yet today, I can’t remember a single word, let alone the context or topic I was contemplating last night.
This led me to a new reflection—about life, about decisions, and missed opportunities. Some of the choices I’ve made now seem like mistakes, while others, the ones I didn’t make, feel like even bigger ones. But then, just as now, I did what I thought was best—or, to put it better, I acted that way because I neither could nor knew how to do otherwise. When I think about it more deeply, everything had to happen exactly as it did, as if I never really had a choice, as if everything led me in this direction, to this place. As if the course of life, like a riverbed, already existed, and life simply flowed into it.
(Thursday)
