(no subject)
I don't believe I'm doing this again, but I wasn't finished. I hadn't even started, I don't think, and its been bothering me. And hell, no one needs to read it, I'll never know.
I've said a lot about confusion about where the focus of life mentally should lie. I talked about dreams versus reality, past and present and future, and really I think I said it's all perfectly fine, but alone each part is unsatisfying, though beautiful in its own way. Of course it is hard not to partake of all of those, but to me it seems dangerous as well. So since overanalysis seems to be my word of the day, let us continue.
Lately I've thought a great deal about my interests and what is important to me, largely from a future perspective I suppose. I envy people who have a strong sense of their passion, a single dominant force in their lives. So much time could be saved by knowing all along what it was all about for me. When we're little, people ask us to share our fantasies of what we'll be when we grow up. When I was tiny I was a princess, then a ballerina, a movie star, a cowgirl, a dolphin trainer, a fashion designer, a veterinarian, president, and a million things in between and after and also until I was old enough to realize the truth. There was nothing I didn't want to do. No passion that dominated all others and changed me forever. My mother tells me that once her friend asked me what I wanted to be, and the I said "A movie star and a rodeo person and a zoo person." When the friend asked why I wanted to be so many things, I said "I want to change the world, and I don't know how." Good lord, what child does that to her future self? What child forges a memory to force the truth out in the open like that? I couldn't possibly have known the way the foolishness of it all would make the fact that it was utterly true burn in me while I spent the next fifteen years afterwards secretly trying to figure how I would make it happen.
It's fun to be passionate about everything, and though I see harm in it, I'm addicted to the rush and the connection it gives. My friends are my passion, every issue I see in the world seems as important as the next, my passion for music, for singing, for traveling, for watching, for thinking, for all the things I do and I see... but what now? Taking a piece of everything leaves you with little of anything.
But for what it's worth, I have found that love is the thing that matters to me above all. Yeah, so it's broad and it's obvious, and it might not help me figure out what the heck I'm going to do for the next however many years, but it's something, and it's true. After all, everything comes from love, so nothing can even approach being more important. I don't know about my plans for the future, but I'm sure if I let love guide me, love of things to do, love of people, love of ideas, I'll never be unhappy, because even when I feel unhappy I'll have the beauty of my purpose to keep me up.
And then of course there's the other sort of love -- the kind with people. What a powerful idea, to put the same emotion that governs everything in the world, the one that birthed hatred and compassion alike, into a single person. After all, it is the same love, just instead of loving life or music or whatever it is, you love a person. True love, if you will. The whole reason I can see for us being here -- the thing we run after because we know in a way we can't explain that it will change us forever. Along with doing things we love, being in love completes us. How brilliant, that such a thing should exist.
All these things -- all the things to appreciate, all the problems to ponder, they're great, but what about when we get put down on the way? I guess I always worry about things like getting jaded, or feel discouraged, cause I know I can get that way. But when it comes down to it, being jaded is unproductive. Why let our experiences define us when we could instead allow them to shape us as we move on and learn and experience more? I also think I like the idea of low points, because they make us think, and they make us look for answers when at high points we might be too pleased to want to know them. I suppose as long as one is not just ever hopeful, but rather ever confident, failure isn't really possible.
So however many hardly related paragraphs later I am, I suppose I'm ready to draw a few conclusions and then I'll feel at peace. Thank goodness for all these things -- the little things and the big things, and the questions, and the conflicts, and the love and the passion thats the point of the whole thing, because without it all what would we do with our lives? A lifetime is a pretty long time to spend not thinking about anything interesting. And finding answers or solutions isn't the point, and I'm not just saying that because I don't think I'll ever have any. What would be the point of answers? If you can answer life's most interesting questions, you won't be caught up in the whirlwind of the days and the years like one of those little fluffy thingies that floats around in the Spring and if you catch one you make a wish. And I kind of like the idea of being one of those, cause I think they're nice.
There's so much to live for, the good and the bad, and the passion and the importance of it all. And the moments when you clench your fists and squeeze your eyes shut because its all so overwhelming and you don't think you can even contain all that. Oh but you can!
I've said a lot about confusion about where the focus of life mentally should lie. I talked about dreams versus reality, past and present and future, and really I think I said it's all perfectly fine, but alone each part is unsatisfying, though beautiful in its own way. Of course it is hard not to partake of all of those, but to me it seems dangerous as well. So since overanalysis seems to be my word of the day, let us continue.
Lately I've thought a great deal about my interests and what is important to me, largely from a future perspective I suppose. I envy people who have a strong sense of their passion, a single dominant force in their lives. So much time could be saved by knowing all along what it was all about for me. When we're little, people ask us to share our fantasies of what we'll be when we grow up. When I was tiny I was a princess, then a ballerina, a movie star, a cowgirl, a dolphin trainer, a fashion designer, a veterinarian, president, and a million things in between and after and also until I was old enough to realize the truth. There was nothing I didn't want to do. No passion that dominated all others and changed me forever. My mother tells me that once her friend asked me what I wanted to be, and the I said "A movie star and a rodeo person and a zoo person." When the friend asked why I wanted to be so many things, I said "I want to change the world, and I don't know how." Good lord, what child does that to her future self? What child forges a memory to force the truth out in the open like that? I couldn't possibly have known the way the foolishness of it all would make the fact that it was utterly true burn in me while I spent the next fifteen years afterwards secretly trying to figure how I would make it happen.
It's fun to be passionate about everything, and though I see harm in it, I'm addicted to the rush and the connection it gives. My friends are my passion, every issue I see in the world seems as important as the next, my passion for music, for singing, for traveling, for watching, for thinking, for all the things I do and I see... but what now? Taking a piece of everything leaves you with little of anything.
But for what it's worth, I have found that love is the thing that matters to me above all. Yeah, so it's broad and it's obvious, and it might not help me figure out what the heck I'm going to do for the next however many years, but it's something, and it's true. After all, everything comes from love, so nothing can even approach being more important. I don't know about my plans for the future, but I'm sure if I let love guide me, love of things to do, love of people, love of ideas, I'll never be unhappy, because even when I feel unhappy I'll have the beauty of my purpose to keep me up.
And then of course there's the other sort of love -- the kind with people. What a powerful idea, to put the same emotion that governs everything in the world, the one that birthed hatred and compassion alike, into a single person. After all, it is the same love, just instead of loving life or music or whatever it is, you love a person. True love, if you will. The whole reason I can see for us being here -- the thing we run after because we know in a way we can't explain that it will change us forever. Along with doing things we love, being in love completes us. How brilliant, that such a thing should exist.
All these things -- all the things to appreciate, all the problems to ponder, they're great, but what about when we get put down on the way? I guess I always worry about things like getting jaded, or feel discouraged, cause I know I can get that way. But when it comes down to it, being jaded is unproductive. Why let our experiences define us when we could instead allow them to shape us as we move on and learn and experience more? I also think I like the idea of low points, because they make us think, and they make us look for answers when at high points we might be too pleased to want to know them. I suppose as long as one is not just ever hopeful, but rather ever confident, failure isn't really possible.
So however many hardly related paragraphs later I am, I suppose I'm ready to draw a few conclusions and then I'll feel at peace. Thank goodness for all these things -- the little things and the big things, and the questions, and the conflicts, and the love and the passion thats the point of the whole thing, because without it all what would we do with our lives? A lifetime is a pretty long time to spend not thinking about anything interesting. And finding answers or solutions isn't the point, and I'm not just saying that because I don't think I'll ever have any. What would be the point of answers? If you can answer life's most interesting questions, you won't be caught up in the whirlwind of the days and the years like one of those little fluffy thingies that floats around in the Spring and if you catch one you make a wish. And I kind of like the idea of being one of those, cause I think they're nice.
There's so much to live for, the good and the bad, and the passion and the importance of it all. And the moments when you clench your fists and squeeze your eyes shut because its all so overwhelming and you don't think you can even contain all that. Oh but you can!