I sometimes wonder about how change works. Is it something that I bring about through my actions or attitudes? If I want it strongly enough, will it actually happen? Because it seems to me that I’ve been more or less the same since my days in high school. Nothing’s really changed at all, despite the time and effort that I’ve put into my new full-time job of soul-searching. I guess that being a typical twenty-something is something that naturally is expected when your passion is questioning the passions and pains of the exuberance of life and its struggles, but still, how can I come-of-age when it feels like I don’t even have a birthday?
I’ve always been fascinated by the seemingly impossible; the incalculable problems that make themselves known when idle thought is uninterrupted. I feel like there’s something to say about each of these, and my skepticism demands me to explore each possibility to its absolute limit. Is this bad? Is there a point where this needs to stop, for the sake of living practically and designing and executing your life’s goals? I wish there were more answers than questions, but unfortunately for me, it seems that life has other intentions. It’s not supposed to be easy. My only hang-up is how to explain what needs to happen so that one can overcome their limitations and leap into their essential freedom. A freedom which is so elusive, yet so close to home. I am freedom. The problem is I don’t really know me, so freedom escapes me – just as I am about to capture it.
Maybe change consists in making an earnest effort in addressing one’s flaws, thus reinvigorating one’s resolve to continue on shaping one’s self toward an ideal. I understand the value of this sort of project, though, in all honesty, it’s just a neurotic sort of recycling act. While you can fix some things that have led to negative consequences, you can’t fix everything. Old problems disappear, whilst new ones spontaneously reappear. In the long run, there’s never any net gain in the quest for self-improvement, but always a digression to the mean. So I don’t think change can be had by this sort of reevaluation of one’s personal stumbling blocks.
But there’s always hope if one is patient enough to see life through. It’s just a test – as Maynard would say. Because, otherwise, I couldn’t go on, knowing that there is nothing ultimately in store for my forthright desire to be open to everything that comes my way. You could say I’m a dreamer. And you’d be right for the most part. Is that part of the problem?
But even dreamers have something to say. With their introspective might often comes revolutionary ideas; ideas which can be applied in a way that makes change possible. Even while such ideas don’t always get implemented, there is a sense of shifting in the collective consciousness regarding the social implications which are compounded from such insights. Everyone’s voice counts. Or, at least, in the ideal world which I envision this would be true.
Some people don’t have the luxury of having their voice heard and being understood. Is it because they don’t understand themselves? This is the cliche answer which is given. And so now that we’ve come full circle, my answer would rest upon the assumption that one’s self is, at its core, inexplicable. No personality is complete, in that there are always layers which go deeper than one’s understanding is able to penetrate. We simply have to do the best we can to interpret what our intentions are and how it’s best to accomplish these. In those times which even we don’t know what we really want, then there’s always the opportunity there for us to use an experience of attempting at a patchwork explanation to further discover whether or not what we thought we wanted was something which we really wanted.
I guess that life might just be a game of trial-and-error, and that change is the destination which, unbeknownst to one, is lurking ahead. I hope that I’m approaching my moment – my time to realize something exciting and new about myself – and to be swept up in a new life aim which is exuded throughout my entire being. A vigorous sort of passion that gives me hope to believe that there even is hope.
Because ennui is more than annoying. It’s really dangerous.
I need to feel, like Matt Damon in Gerry, that I can find my way out of the desert of existence which had initially seemed like an adventure uninhibited by its reckless abandon. I need to escape from this barren earth and rediscover the joy which can be had from new experiences, new passions, new joys. And this all has to happen now. It is necessary in order for me to become the person that I wish to someday discover, beyond the veil, in the harrowing fields of reality which lies ahead of me – which is often sympathetically termed the future.