Our lives are a story, with a beginning, a middle and an
end. The beginning of a chapter in our lives feels like a beginning, and the
ending of a chapter feels like an ending; but chapters are really just a
convenient place to break up our story into manageable chunks. I like beginning
a new chapter, precisely because it is new, but why? Well, largely because the
old chapter has become stale—it ran its course. It had its ending, and it is
time for a renewal, the fresh start to a new chapter.
I am reminded of a quote from a movie, roughly, “the real
trick is in knowing there is no spoon.” Like that scene, chapters are illusory—they
are just a comfortable way to break up the story. If chapters were real, I
would argue that every day begins a new chapter. Every time I wake, there are
fresh and new possibilities. Do we, the characters in our own stories decide on the chapters?
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