What’s important to you?
Sometimes we have glib answers to questions like these; answers repeated so often their meaning begins to fade. Perhaps they were true once. Maybe not anymore. Caught in the cycle of everyday demands, priorities change and soon our answers ring hollow.
I used to ask this question. Lying in bed, starting up at the stipple, it was hard not to engage in rhetorical duels. Two competing views challenging each other, vying for dominance on your mental landscape. I’d ask. And think. Ask again tangentially. I believed that if you poked and prodded yourself enough, you’d arrive at the truth. Fiat lux. Let there be light.
I don’t think about this anymore. Haven’t bothered asking. Light’s gone out.