Once in a blue moon
Last night...was good. When I got home around 11:30 I was tempted to turn on the computer and write up a journal entry right then, so that I could capture it in all its glory. But then I realized that nothing would do it justice. Really, as much as we may try to preserve things with photographs or with writing or with video, in the end these only serve as tools to jog the memory, so that only someone who lived through the experience can fully comprehend its wonder. That's kind of what yesterday was like. While it was being experienced, it was great. Now...it just feels odd, knowing that that was the last Humanities field trip of my life, and nothing like that will ever happen quite like that again.
It was good, but in retrospect it loses its color and life. As much as the past might be beautiful, in the end we have to continue to live in the present.
I don't know why I'm thinking about this so much. I don't need to. But maybe I do...yesterday was an odd day for me. There were moments when I felt like I belonged, and moments where I felt estranged, and most of these happened without me having a clue as to why.
Before we left for the field trip yesterday, Krucli was talking to us about the hero's journey. He gave examples from Star Wars, but those weren't the ones that stuck with me. What stuck was his use of us going off to college. And the stages of that journey corresponded perfectly with all that I know I've been through or will go through. And I admit that it scares me. It scares me to be leaving behind the kind of life I've always known. I want to continue having happiness I'm used to, even if life may only improve through change...
I don't know. I've been in a philosophical mood lately. I started this entry intending to describe what happened yesterday on the field trip. But looking back on it, I realize that the things I'd like to write about, the things I'd like to share with others, are those things I can't quite find words for. I'm trying, but I feel like someone fumbling for the light switch in the darkness.
I need to do something that will make me feel more myself. I need to write. After all, script frenzy started yesterday. I need to get the feel of the keys beneath my fingers again, and let that soothe me...
How do I feel right now? I think that this works best:
"...growing up is all about getting hurt. And then getting over it. You hurt. You recover. You move on. Odds are pretty good you're just going to get hurt again. But each time, you learn something.
Each time, you come out of it a little stronger, and at some point you realize there are more flavors of pain than coffee. There's the little empty pain of leaving something behind--graduating, taking the next step forward, walking out of something familiar and safe into the unknown. There's the big, whirling pain of life upending all of your plans and expectatinos. There's the sharp little pains of failure, and the more obscure aches of successes that didn't give you what you thought they would. There are the vicious, stabbing pains of hopes being torn up. The sweet little pains of finding others, giving them your love, and taking joy in their life as they grow and learn. There's the steady pain of empathy that you shrug off so you can stand beside a wounded friend and help them bear their burdens.
And if you're very, very lucky, there are a few blazing hot little pains you feel when you realize that you are standing in a moment of utter perfection, an instant of triumph, or happiness, or mirth which at the same time cannot possibly last--and yet will remain with you for life."
~From White Knight by Jim Butcher
I know I've posted this before, but it just seems such a good descriptor of how I feel. These are the pains I've been feeling--and some of them hurt more than others. The "big, whirling pain of life upending all of your plans and expectations" is what I felt when I didn't get into Stanford. I've mercifully been spared the "sharp little pains of failure," but lately I've become mired in "the more obscure aches of successes that didn't give you what you thought they would." Of course, the pain of loving others balances this out on some days, but it makes it worse on others--after all, empathy is a "steady pain" that's hard to ignore.
The final paragraph of that quote describes perfectly what I'd call the pain of impermanence. It's one of the most beautiful, but also one of the hardest for me to reconcile myself to right now. But I'm working on it--I don't see any other way.
It was good, but in retrospect it loses its color and life. As much as the past might be beautiful, in the end we have to continue to live in the present.
I don't know why I'm thinking about this so much. I don't need to. But maybe I do...yesterday was an odd day for me. There were moments when I felt like I belonged, and moments where I felt estranged, and most of these happened without me having a clue as to why.
Before we left for the field trip yesterday, Krucli was talking to us about the hero's journey. He gave examples from Star Wars, but those weren't the ones that stuck with me. What stuck was his use of us going off to college. And the stages of that journey corresponded perfectly with all that I know I've been through or will go through. And I admit that it scares me. It scares me to be leaving behind the kind of life I've always known. I want to continue having happiness I'm used to, even if life may only improve through change...
I don't know. I've been in a philosophical mood lately. I started this entry intending to describe what happened yesterday on the field trip. But looking back on it, I realize that the things I'd like to write about, the things I'd like to share with others, are those things I can't quite find words for. I'm trying, but I feel like someone fumbling for the light switch in the darkness.
I need to do something that will make me feel more myself. I need to write. After all, script frenzy started yesterday. I need to get the feel of the keys beneath my fingers again, and let that soothe me...
How do I feel right now? I think that this works best:
"...growing up is all about getting hurt. And then getting over it. You hurt. You recover. You move on. Odds are pretty good you're just going to get hurt again. But each time, you learn something.
Each time, you come out of it a little stronger, and at some point you realize there are more flavors of pain than coffee. There's the little empty pain of leaving something behind--graduating, taking the next step forward, walking out of something familiar and safe into the unknown. There's the big, whirling pain of life upending all of your plans and expectatinos. There's the sharp little pains of failure, and the more obscure aches of successes that didn't give you what you thought they would. There are the vicious, stabbing pains of hopes being torn up. The sweet little pains of finding others, giving them your love, and taking joy in their life as they grow and learn. There's the steady pain of empathy that you shrug off so you can stand beside a wounded friend and help them bear their burdens.
And if you're very, very lucky, there are a few blazing hot little pains you feel when you realize that you are standing in a moment of utter perfection, an instant of triumph, or happiness, or mirth which at the same time cannot possibly last--and yet will remain with you for life."
~From White Knight by Jim Butcher
I know I've posted this before, but it just seems such a good descriptor of how I feel. These are the pains I've been feeling--and some of them hurt more than others. The "big, whirling pain of life upending all of your plans and expectations" is what I felt when I didn't get into Stanford. I've mercifully been spared the "sharp little pains of failure," but lately I've become mired in "the more obscure aches of successes that didn't give you what you thought they would." Of course, the pain of loving others balances this out on some days, but it makes it worse on others--after all, empathy is a "steady pain" that's hard to ignore.
The final paragraph of that quote describes perfectly what I'd call the pain of impermanence. It's one of the most beautiful, but also one of the hardest for me to reconcile myself to right now. But I'm working on it--I don't see any other way.