More than 30 years after reading Tolstoy's opinion that people mistake excitement for happiness, I'm still not sure where I stand, because I've believed one side, then another. There's a line to be drawn in the stress/agitation/ excitement stimulus between adding fuel and burning out.
I warmly remember the Sunday afternoons rowing on the river when it was like glass. If I had to choose, I'd take that stormy night, rowing against a tide so strong it broke an oar, and I had to grab at pilings and tow the boat with the rope over my shoulder.
As the past few days have unfolded according to plan, I feel unfulfilled. While there are times requiring reflection, I'm in a phase requiring the unexpected. Ennui begets entropy.
Much as I love the roses, I'm drawn too by the thorns.
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