Life and passion
Sorry I haven't written much recently. I've been busy--tutoring now, which is nice--and every time I sit down to write something, I'm either too tired or I lose interest. But a lot's been going on. So I suppose I better pin it up on the wall for a bit.
I was thinking about the future today. As a junior halfway done with my second semester, I should have a sketch or two, but it opens up like the flatlands collected around Amish country. Nothing but sky and bronze grain. So I stare, reaching for something to do, to organize, to tell my parents, but I just get tired and overwhelmed and go back to my immediate future--which is already bursting with occupations. However, a few directions do come to mind.
Above all, I need to leave room for passion. In A.A., sponsors sometimes say recovery is a selfish process. Love for family and friends strengthens resolve and can give the last push an addict needs to recover, but longevity requires a personal dedication. Family and friends can't follow us everywhere. If an addict isn't desperate for his own recovery, regression is common.
The same goes for life. We have to want it. No one can take their enjoyment or purpose and structure our lives with it, no matter how much they may love us or want us to be happy. "Follow your dreams," is trite, but true.
When I see the people I respect, they didn't take the easy road. My old religion teacher was a sailor and a lawyer before he was a teacher. My old Earth science teacher owned restaurants and was a lumberjack before he found the classroom. Some stumble through relationships, others move from town to town. But they make their own choices.
Life can be a passion, I think: it needs no justification or purpose, just an affirmation. But I'm beginning to think we need to make it a passion. If we ever want to be truly happy, living and looking at life without distraction is the key. Or, as New Hampshire puts it, "Live free or die."
I was thinking about the future today. As a junior halfway done with my second semester, I should have a sketch or two, but it opens up like the flatlands collected around Amish country. Nothing but sky and bronze grain. So I stare, reaching for something to do, to organize, to tell my parents, but I just get tired and overwhelmed and go back to my immediate future--which is already bursting with occupations. However, a few directions do come to mind.
Above all, I need to leave room for passion. In A.A., sponsors sometimes say recovery is a selfish process. Love for family and friends strengthens resolve and can give the last push an addict needs to recover, but longevity requires a personal dedication. Family and friends can't follow us everywhere. If an addict isn't desperate for his own recovery, regression is common.
The same goes for life. We have to want it. No one can take their enjoyment or purpose and structure our lives with it, no matter how much they may love us or want us to be happy. "Follow your dreams," is trite, but true.
When I see the people I respect, they didn't take the easy road. My old religion teacher was a sailor and a lawyer before he was a teacher. My old Earth science teacher owned restaurants and was a lumberjack before he found the classroom. Some stumble through relationships, others move from town to town. But they make their own choices.
Life can be a passion, I think: it needs no justification or purpose, just an affirmation. But I'm beginning to think we need to make it a passion. If we ever want to be truly happy, living and looking at life without distraction is the key. Or, as New Hampshire puts it, "Live free or die."