Sunday, August 12, 2012

A post of substance

Here we go!

I like to write update-ish posts among others that are more difficult to characterize, so here we are. Topic of the day? Let's go with...moving! Well, more so the issue is growing up to discover that there's a difference between idealism and practicality, discovering also that what you may have previously considered the latter may in fact be the former. Coming to the conclusion that the lines are never as easily drawn as they seem is a potentially life changing revelation.

I want to help people learn, I want to be a teacher, I want to teach, these notions have occupied my ambition for as long as the concept had relevancy in my life. Technically, in my early days I just wanted to help people. A noble enough cause, I'd say. Yet, at some point there comes a time when I realized that, though these goals are not impractical, they are steeped in idealism. Do I simply want to teach? Or do I also want to raise a family? Do I not also seek religious fulfillment? Community? Love? Knowledge? Stability? Once I reflect upon what I actually want, acknowledging how the simplest of goals can become saturated in practical logistical concerns, life becomes complicated.

I wish to teach, but more so I wish to be used. Even more so, I wish to be useful. I wish to acquire skills that can build a better world, that can benefit my immediate company as well as those further away. I wish to be valuable (though an individual's value can be a tricky thing to assess). Furthermore, I wish to be driven. With this assortment of desires, I wonder whether it is still practical to plan anything specific in life. My goals become complicated by my uncertainty regarding their overall purpose. Do I still want to teach? Teach what? Teach how? Teach where? What if teaching renders me useless beyond my subject? What if teaching replaces my passion with complacency, and my idealism with practicality? What if teaching requires me to leave everything I've ever known behind for roads unknown? All these annoying little queries arise as I reflect on the possible paths my future may be mapped upon. What I know for sure is that life is, at this point in time, about a submission of control rather than a desire to take control. With such a lack of true direction, I must submit to the possibilities and trust where I am sent, knowing I've got an amazing woman by my side to work through the issues (both practical and idealistic) that may arise as we wait for inspiration to provide clear guidance.

For the longest time, I've thought it was all about what I wanted to do. It's only now, as I near the end of my educational journey, that I am beginning to realize the many possibilities life may offer and the limitations of my strict expectations. Open minded doesn't feel quite right as a label for my attitude, as I seek to open myself deeper to possibilities beyond the realm of thought alone. It is with an open soul that I prepare for the next stage God has in store for me.
I wish to be poetic.

I dream of a world where beauty is found in the words we use rather than the clothes we wear, where joy is extracted from moments perfected by the expression of soul. Yet I'm restlessly awake attempting to assemble assortments of poetic speech, with each ensuing effort reminding me of the difficulties associated with consciousness. As we dream, our fancies become unattached scenes of impulse and curiosity marked not by effort or awareness but by impulse. On the contrary, the alert state that I currently experience is trapped by its own limitations, governed by the restrictive grip of reality. So easily may my dreams come true, yet the shudder that arouses me from my slumber carries with it the sting of forgetfulness. Its as though each night, as I drift into a world of curiosity, I experience the greatest moments only to lose my recollection of their occurrence.

To write as one dreams, without hesitation or need for explanation, passing from thought to thought in detached sequence of impulsive thought with a semblance of coherence, this truly intrigues me.

I'll figure you out yet, dreams, as I furiously strive to recall all which I've come to learn and understand.