August 20
Love only what comes your way and is spun into your thread. For what could suit you better?
Meditations VII,57
Listening mode
Love only what comes your way and is spun into your thread. For what could suit you better?
What has fallen to you is hard to compare with what you would have chosen. You didn't pick your mother tongue. Another language may sound more beautiful, or be more precise about the things that matter to you. Still, you swear in the first one, and when you're tired, you count in it.
This fit wasn't there beforehand. It came about because you lived with something for a long time, until it had shaped itself to you and you to it. An uncomfortable distinction follows: what suits you well need not be what's best for you. It may simply be what's most familiar.
Sometimes the suspicion is justified. A city, a job, a particular way of arguing can surround you for so long that you take it for your own shape. Then wanting something else would be no betrayal.
Only, you can't learn to love the new in any other way than the old: it has to come your way, and you have to give it time. Even what you choose belongs to you only once it has befallen you for a while.
