On making it up, or the virtues of make believe

bobulate:

As I pulled off my tennis shoes just inside my front door that day after fifth grade, I heard my mother say it, “No one knows what they’re doing.” She, in a simple response to a query I had about some confusing adult thing or another, continued, “You know, we’re all just making it up as we go along.” And there it was. In one fell sentence, she had introduced me to the secret of adulthood.

This is so very true. Yet, most of us are so busy chasing what we think it’s all about we miss that there is no perfect and right answer.