Most of what is given is never received. Most of what is possible goes unrealized. And many feet never find a shoe.
True, life presses on (except when it doesn’t). But when it moves, it moves in fits and false starts and, just like Darwin said, most of its spendthrift variations end up serving no end in particular.
Call this surplus the bootless.
Much of life is bootless.
Much of life is good for nothing in particular. It’s waiting in traffic, walking from here to there, forgetting what you were looking for, staring out your window, sitting in silence, shooting the breeze, watching a commercial, surfing the web, making a pun, picking up stix, wandering by the water cooler, lingering, spinning in a circle, most of what I think about most of the time, etc.
Efficiency does not appear to be the name of the game. And the fact that everything could be useful doesn’t change the fact that most of it isn’t.
Do your work, of course. Keep things moving as you’re able. But even here, part of the price of this work will always be the bootless.
God has his purposes but these purposes certainly don’t seem to require that everything be purposeful. Purpose charts its course through the bootless like a thin black crack across the face of a granite cliff.
This is enough.
Hang on to that crack in the face of the given as you scale its heights, but don’t despise the substance of the bootless rock that holds you aloft.
Grow to love the bootless. Not, of course, for your sake. But just because.
Otherwise, much of your life will fail not only to be good for something. It will fail to be just plain good.