Little Boxes

Little Boxes...its a song by Walk off the Earth. The video that goes with the lyrics of the song is quite ingenious and rather, insulting, depending on your point of view of course. Little boxes, made of ticky tacky, with cookie cutter humans following a pattern with very little deviation from a or THE norm...the song can be seen as mocking status and status quo or it can be viewed as a wake up call to the sleepy humans who's yesterday looked precisely the same as their today and likely their tomorrow, a life of clear boundaries and specific colours with lines of demarcation defining life as they know it and yet, sameness colours their world cardboard brown. I heard a great anacronym for fear~false evidence appearing real, and it is my belief and experience that this is the root cause of all stuckness, all life sucking habit forming day in day out sameness. We are all subject to the uncomfortable comfort of habit, routine, in fact the most successful people have one, a routine they follow that delivers results. The uncomfortable part is when we know that our routine is no longer serving us, is no longer satisfying the original reason we began or perhaps, when we recognize that it never really did. Fear, it is the way of a holding pattern, a belief held that if I change, if you change, our very survival is somehow threatened, or at the very least, life as we have known it will be forever after unrecognizable and damaged. We are not what we do and yet, we start looking and being the things that occupy our time...our days are numbered, counted off by a calendar and our minutes in time by a clock. Consciousness requires presence of mind and more poignantly, of heart. Each beat of the heart cries out for acknowledgement, place your hand over your heart and listen to the whispered longing of it crying out for more than mediocracy, more than half life lived, more. What is your longing? What do you live and breath for? Hey, you, I'm talking to YOU...what does YOUR heart want most for the rest of its blood pumping oxygen saturated life? If oxygen gives the breath of life, delivered by your ever beating heart, don't you owe your heart an audience?