It is July 3, 2001. 10:24 am
I can hardly believe that summer is already here. Where has spring gone? Days blur into weeks and soon months pass without notice. I am 27 but just yesterday I was worried about getting started at college. My youth has past; I am no longer young. It is days like today, when upon awakening the realities of life bear heavy in one?s heart. Staring at my water stained ceiling before a minute past of my new day, my head is full of questions. Immediately I know they are the questions I know no answer; I am resigned to feeling that I am not supposed to ever know the answers. It was an unsettling sleep last night.
I am 27 and I am feeling an incredible urgency about life. I feel as though I am wasting the precious time I have been gifted with. At times I wonder if life is precious, if it is a gift, if it is a wonderful miracle. These moments of self-awareness are very humbling. I am singular, alone in this world, fated to my own course, written on my own time-line. The finality of this is too frightening to dwell on. This is why as youth passes the reality of age becomes more impressive. Life in this way is tragic. It is rare to ever find solace in the clock. Its mesmerizing beat is indifferent, a perpetual reminder of your mortality. To think that when you are young you envision and wish to be older only to realize when you are that age you still cannot attain what you desired or you wish you were young again. This is why we always hear the expression ? I wish I knew what I know now then.? There is then an inherent motivator to move forward. We exist in a sort of race against the clock to get somewhere, a destination each of us must individually determine. It is this that looms so heavy inside of me. I must determine myself. I am my maker. I am the artist, the creator. What then do I forge?
These days of summer pass quite simply. The weather enduces playful frolicking. Every summer since I was a boy summer was best for play; and without regret little has changed. Summertime daydreams were plentiful. I was little different from Alice and her Wonderland or Gulliver and all his fantastic voyages. My fantasies were rich in color and personage. I was this or that - it made little difference- seeing and doing and talking and fighting and exploring and whatever else I chose to whim. They were exhilarating. ?I want to do this or that when I am older,? I remember thinking. I am that age now I suppose and I cannot say that many of those dreams ever realized. I awoke this morning to another day of fresh sun with thoughts much deeper than play. I want a dream to come true. I do not want to look back upon myself and confirm that I was a dreamer. That I had some great dreams but none of them I ever experienced. I want to live a dream. I want to live a dream so I can cry. So I can cry the tears of an artist who created something from nothing. So I can cry at fulfilling something I always wanted. So my tears can free me from my time. I will in a sense be liberated from life because it is a dream- something too good to be true.
The conflicts of life do seem to be a tragedy. It feels as if there is so little time to do what you dream. The realities of life, like economic well-being or lack of companionship, too often seem spoilers to one?s dreams. How is it that anyone crafts his or her life toward fulfillment? Ah, that is the breath of heroism! We are self-determined and thus are responsible for ourselves. Our accountability is great, too great for many. They cannot stand on their own. Their frailty and fate is too overwhelming to carry themselves. I know this feeling, especially alone, and it is deeply disheartening. Too many succumb and fall by the wayside, decrepit in spirit, body without soul, life without life. Companionship, without a doubt, is the most comforting and warming of remedies.
Some have companionship, but still no soul
Some have companionship, but still need to be heroic, still need dreams
I am happy with me, my body and person
not satisfied with being in Columbus, envious of friends travels
Do i need to travel to accomplish that ?living feeling?
The time is now for us to be HEROIC
I can hardly believe that summer is already here. Where has spring gone? Days blur into weeks and soon months pass without notice. I am 27 but just yesterday I was worried about getting started at college. My youth has past; I am no longer young. It is days like today, when upon awakening the realities of life bear heavy in one?s heart. Staring at my water stained ceiling before a minute past of my new day, my head is full of questions. Immediately I know they are the questions I know no answer; I am resigned to feeling that I am not supposed to ever know the answers. It was an unsettling sleep last night.
I am 27 and I am feeling an incredible urgency about life. I feel as though I am wasting the precious time I have been gifted with. At times I wonder if life is precious, if it is a gift, if it is a wonderful miracle. These moments of self-awareness are very humbling. I am singular, alone in this world, fated to my own course, written on my own time-line. The finality of this is too frightening to dwell on. This is why as youth passes the reality of age becomes more impressive. Life in this way is tragic. It is rare to ever find solace in the clock. Its mesmerizing beat is indifferent, a perpetual reminder of your mortality. To think that when you are young you envision and wish to be older only to realize when you are that age you still cannot attain what you desired or you wish you were young again. This is why we always hear the expression ? I wish I knew what I know now then.? There is then an inherent motivator to move forward. We exist in a sort of race against the clock to get somewhere, a destination each of us must individually determine. It is this that looms so heavy inside of me. I must determine myself. I am my maker. I am the artist, the creator. What then do I forge?
These days of summer pass quite simply. The weather enduces playful frolicking. Every summer since I was a boy summer was best for play; and without regret little has changed. Summertime daydreams were plentiful. I was little different from Alice and her Wonderland or Gulliver and all his fantastic voyages. My fantasies were rich in color and personage. I was this or that - it made little difference- seeing and doing and talking and fighting and exploring and whatever else I chose to whim. They were exhilarating. ?I want to do this or that when I am older,? I remember thinking. I am that age now I suppose and I cannot say that many of those dreams ever realized. I awoke this morning to another day of fresh sun with thoughts much deeper than play. I want a dream to come true. I do not want to look back upon myself and confirm that I was a dreamer. That I had some great dreams but none of them I ever experienced. I want to live a dream. I want to live a dream so I can cry. So I can cry the tears of an artist who created something from nothing. So I can cry at fulfilling something I always wanted. So my tears can free me from my time. I will in a sense be liberated from life because it is a dream- something too good to be true.
The conflicts of life do seem to be a tragedy. It feels as if there is so little time to do what you dream. The realities of life, like economic well-being or lack of companionship, too often seem spoilers to one?s dreams. How is it that anyone crafts his or her life toward fulfillment? Ah, that is the breath of heroism! We are self-determined and thus are responsible for ourselves. Our accountability is great, too great for many. They cannot stand on their own. Their frailty and fate is too overwhelming to carry themselves. I know this feeling, especially alone, and it is deeply disheartening. Too many succumb and fall by the wayside, decrepit in spirit, body without soul, life without life. Companionship, without a doubt, is the most comforting and warming of remedies.
Some have companionship, but still no soul
Some have companionship, but still need to be heroic, still need dreams
I am happy with me, my body and person
not satisfied with being in Columbus, envious of friends travels
Do i need to travel to accomplish that ?living feeling?
The time is now for us to be HEROIC
