Make your bed

    And sometimes now I make my bed in the mornings.

    I read this book by this French comedian and the French comedian talked about how he realized not making his bed was one of the things that kept him deep in depression. And it made infinite sense to me. I never made my bed, for it seemed foolish and pointless if I was to sleep in it again come night. But now I realize that the knowledge of Undoing is nothing to be afraid of. Like my bed, I come undone, but I do not have to remain this way. That was something I had forgotten. Making my bed reminds me that the very essence of Life is doing, only to undo later. And that is a reassuring thought.

    But if one starts believing that the Undoing puts the Doing to shame, then the harmonious cycle breaks and one is left wondering “why enjoy a sunny day if it must turn grey later?” and “why be glad in my free time if I must work later?” which all boils down to “why live if I must die?”