Some Good Lessons
I know some more things now. Not in intellectual matters--though I do know more there too and I value that knowledge--but in terms of wisdom. I don't know everything, but I feel wiser than I used to. If there's one thing better than genius, and I suppose there are many, it's sincerity.
I go to school with a bunch of aspiring geniuses. I guess this is true for most colleges. People compete over how smart they are. What's the point? I wonder. Why do people feel the need to prove themselves? Do they not already feel adequate? This is the real issue, I think, facing our times--whether people like themselves. I think, perhaps, probably, most people don't like themselves. It's too bad. It makes people do stupid things, and afterwards, you can't decide whether to give them a hug or wring their necks. Either way, it just means that people need more love, or a better sense of self-worth. Because people really deserve to like themselves better.
Last semester I proposed a production of a play I was to write over the summer. I was thrilled about seeing it get produced. I met with the drama faculty a few days ago to see if the play would actually be put on. It turns out, it's not going to happen. The faculty said they didn't feel like I needed a production to have a valuable experience but that they'd be happy to support me with a reading of my work. If I were concerned with being a genius, I could've gotten very upset and felt like I was not worthy of being a human being. But that reaction would've been misinterpreting the situation. And I didn't get upset. I value the process I'm going through, of figuring out how to articulate what's going on in my heart.
The reason I love playwriting, I've discovered, is not because I want to be a great genius. I love playwriting because I love it. Period.
I have a fire in my belly that I don't want to go away. And it won't, ever. I know that now. I'm not going to say what has happened to make me know this, at least not now. But I don't want to forget about it. Because that could happen, and more easily than I used to think. Many things could rob me from letting the wisdom of this calm fire inside me guide my life. One of these things is an obsession with genius. There are others too. And when one or more of these things take over, then the fire's forgotten. And once forgotten, it's hard to figure out how to get it back. But thankfully, it's always there. I'm grateful for that. I hope I never stray from my fire ever again. Listening to it will guide me down sweet, tender, and exciting roads in life. Forgetting it will lead me into a deep, dark pit of confusion and despair. I choose road A instead of road B.
I go to school with a bunch of aspiring geniuses. I guess this is true for most colleges. People compete over how smart they are. What's the point? I wonder. Why do people feel the need to prove themselves? Do they not already feel adequate? This is the real issue, I think, facing our times--whether people like themselves. I think, perhaps, probably, most people don't like themselves. It's too bad. It makes people do stupid things, and afterwards, you can't decide whether to give them a hug or wring their necks. Either way, it just means that people need more love, or a better sense of self-worth. Because people really deserve to like themselves better.
Last semester I proposed a production of a play I was to write over the summer. I was thrilled about seeing it get produced. I met with the drama faculty a few days ago to see if the play would actually be put on. It turns out, it's not going to happen. The faculty said they didn't feel like I needed a production to have a valuable experience but that they'd be happy to support me with a reading of my work. If I were concerned with being a genius, I could've gotten very upset and felt like I was not worthy of being a human being. But that reaction would've been misinterpreting the situation. And I didn't get upset. I value the process I'm going through, of figuring out how to articulate what's going on in my heart.
The reason I love playwriting, I've discovered, is not because I want to be a great genius. I love playwriting because I love it. Period.
I have a fire in my belly that I don't want to go away. And it won't, ever. I know that now. I'm not going to say what has happened to make me know this, at least not now. But I don't want to forget about it. Because that could happen, and more easily than I used to think. Many things could rob me from letting the wisdom of this calm fire inside me guide my life. One of these things is an obsession with genius. There are others too. And when one or more of these things take over, then the fire's forgotten. And once forgotten, it's hard to figure out how to get it back. But thankfully, it's always there. I'm grateful for that. I hope I never stray from my fire ever again. Listening to it will guide me down sweet, tender, and exciting roads in life. Forgetting it will lead me into a deep, dark pit of confusion and despair. I choose road A instead of road B.