Building chain-link fences
A friend mentioned something to me the other day, and asked a question that I have no good answer to. One of those questions that points you at a mirror that you can hardly stand to look into.
I was babbling about one of many talented people that I have been fortunate enough to meet, someone who I would consider on my list of heroes. People on that list, for me, are people who make my life possible, who make my life worth more than just the toil and effort bits. Their influence, their work, their art, connects me more to being human than I otherwise would care to be. Some of these people are easy to pick out, some of them are quiet, some are famous, but their traces intersect my life in some interesting and important way.
I asked my friend what she would think about meeting a poet she had just pointed me at, a man who has lived a life of danger, adventure, science, and art, and still does to this day. The type of life that makes me say "wow!" when I look at it, that makes me wonder why I do what I do. Her reply brought my brain to a full stop. She said "You are < name redacted to protect my innocence >. How about that?"
It feels like a barrier is there, no room in my life to move with the big steps I see other people take. I feel like a kid hanging on a chain-link fence, trying to get a better view. Staring at art, at accomplishment, at perseverance, at humanity, all on display, but I am unable to touch any of it. A world under construction that I cannot be a part of.
Psychobabble and bad metaphors aside, her question deserves an answer. How to be content with my own accomplishment. How to feel connected, to feel more human than alien. How to work with all the great things people do and return something of my own, with satisfaction and peace. How to make a life that I don't look back on, one that speaks for me without me present.
Writing this, a Thoreau quote comes to mind - "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation". Looking at that in some detail and context, though, I don't think he was talking about this feeling. He was talking about trying to find something greater than a life about only work. His solution was escape to the country, to a place where he could absorb the peace nature provides. The country is good, peace is good, but my calling is about creating - what, I have yet to really figure out. I just know I want people to see it, to use it, to have it make some measurable difference in their lives.
I cannot call my life one of quiet desperation with any degree of honesty intact. But I still feel like there is something I see through the fence, something that I am missing. The view I see doesn't turn into inspiration, it more often seem to stop me short. And sometimes it hurts, like the rough, galvanized metal of a chain link fence on bare hands.
Balance in all things, it seems. To create, I have to figure out how to tear something apart. It would be a whole lot easier if I could see what I am trying to do, though.
Thanks to walden.org, in particular to The Henry D. Thoreau Mis-Quotation Page, for some detail and context.
I was babbling about one of many talented people that I have been fortunate enough to meet, someone who I would consider on my list of heroes. People on that list, for me, are people who make my life possible, who make my life worth more than just the toil and effort bits. Their influence, their work, their art, connects me more to being human than I otherwise would care to be. Some of these people are easy to pick out, some of them are quiet, some are famous, but their traces intersect my life in some interesting and important way.
I asked my friend what she would think about meeting a poet she had just pointed me at, a man who has lived a life of danger, adventure, science, and art, and still does to this day. The type of life that makes me say "wow!" when I look at it, that makes me wonder why I do what I do. Her reply brought my brain to a full stop. She said "You are < name redacted to protect my innocence >. How about that?"
It feels like a barrier is there, no room in my life to move with the big steps I see other people take. I feel like a kid hanging on a chain-link fence, trying to get a better view. Staring at art, at accomplishment, at perseverance, at humanity, all on display, but I am unable to touch any of it. A world under construction that I cannot be a part of.
Psychobabble and bad metaphors aside, her question deserves an answer. How to be content with my own accomplishment. How to feel connected, to feel more human than alien. How to work with all the great things people do and return something of my own, with satisfaction and peace. How to make a life that I don't look back on, one that speaks for me without me present.
Writing this, a Thoreau quote comes to mind - "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation". Looking at that in some detail and context, though, I don't think he was talking about this feeling. He was talking about trying to find something greater than a life about only work. His solution was escape to the country, to a place where he could absorb the peace nature provides. The country is good, peace is good, but my calling is about creating - what, I have yet to really figure out. I just know I want people to see it, to use it, to have it make some measurable difference in their lives.
I cannot call my life one of quiet desperation with any degree of honesty intact. But I still feel like there is something I see through the fence, something that I am missing. The view I see doesn't turn into inspiration, it more often seem to stop me short. And sometimes it hurts, like the rough, galvanized metal of a chain link fence on bare hands.
Balance in all things, it seems. To create, I have to figure out how to tear something apart. It would be a whole lot easier if I could see what I am trying to do, though.
Thanks to walden.org, in particular to The Henry D. Thoreau Mis-Quotation Page, for some detail and context.