What holds us back? It's fear. It's
the idea that we may fail. We're content. We'd rather be
entertained than entertain. We aren't natural
adventurers – if there
isn't a map, we're afraid to attempt the journey. So what do we do?
We can
cry. We can point out the mistakes of others, and their flaws. We
can look inward and search, though sometimes fruitlessly. We search
for things we love, enjoy. We can classify needs as wants and wants
as needs; those that have come before us have defined such, but it's
different for every individual. I need to feel free. There is no
such thing as destiny, there are the paths I choose and the decisions
I make. I don't care about what Laszlo
thinks he has figured out.
We
look to our mentors and idols and role models for courage, but being
their clone can never make us happy; most of us don't have one,
we have many or we have none.
We
want to ask for help but don't know the words; we can say the word
'help' but that's the extent
of our knowledge of what we require.
Whether it be a level of nurturing or love or duty, does anyone know
what the next growing step is? We can only hope that there is a next
step, a next corner, a next obstacle, and that when we reach its
summit, that we feel accomplished, if but only for a moment.
Sometimes
we're alone. Those whom watch us grow and mature and blossom, those
who counsel us and nurture us, they
know us and know 'where we're coming from' but unless they're you,
they can never fully understand us. The only person who can
completely glimpse into the decisions we make and the reasons behind
them are ourselves; unfortunately, most of us will never be capable
of this feat. And quite a
feat it would be. Perhaps upon reaching our death bed we can look
back and see and understand ourselves purely, though that could only
benefit the dying.
What
are we left to do? Risk. Risk change, risk losing wants and needs,
risk failing goals. Risk losing the love others have for us. Risk
sanity. Risk control. Risk
others not following through on their commitments. Risk others'
opinions of you, positive or negative.
We
crave. We need challenge. Occasionally we are willing to go all in.
Sometimes once in a lifetime, sometimes never. Wants and needs
become forever blurred; perhaps challenge is a want, for it is not
air, food or water. It is, however, an
appetite by definition.
Without hunger can we consume the air and the food and the water our
bodies and life-forces require to survive?
Some
reach their bar, their level, their capacity. Others will not and
never can. Behind every goal is another. Be a hero. Help those in
need. Have a family, provide for them, guarantee their success, or,
at least guarantee that they will never struggle. But is struggle
not appetite of another flavor, that
next level? Without that
taste in their mouths, do our children stand a chance to succeed? If
my children cannot surpass
me then I know I have failed.
And
what about others, those who help build and shape a system that
confuses equality with will? I
refer to a system favoring
degrees over a hunger that cannot be taught or certified or
diplomaed. Ancestory and
income level are not things that can teach us how to be insatiable,
nor is school or college. Perhaps you're born with it or learn it
through struggle at early life stages. I have it. Success is not a
want, it is a need. I
don't know what happens if it doesn't occur,
if it isn't reached. Give up? To what end?
I'm
ravenous. Sometimes I think there's something wrong with me, though
most times I know there's something wrong with the
expectations of society. I
refuse to conform to the ideas and the teachings of mediocrity.
These lessons are not for me.
I like to fail. I was
able to ride a two-wheeler
before my third birthday and somedays, with all my heart, I wish I
was still that fearless, relentless three year old with bloody knees
and holes in his jeans. I must have that drive left in here
somewhere, in some forgotten, uncharted
chamber of my heart. Where did the disconnect happen that I now
consider mediocrity, a consideration
that makes me nauseous and sick to my stomach to oblige?
Some
days I think the world should shape itself around people like me,
until my
compassion gets the best of this thought. Most people need to be
protected by someone bigger, stronger and smarter than themselves. I
constantly battle to fit into a mold designed for people that
couldn't be farther from who I am or what I need. But I'm searching.
I want to know which crevice to conform to. Frankly, right now I
feel like the world was not build for me and I was not built for it;
the 'if you can't beat 'em, join em' attitude is approaching the
horizon and it is not one I have yet fully indulged. What if this
new horizon yields nothing to my needs?
My
frustration asks why the world is like this, how it has grown into a
system that gives into the weak and lazy. To be clear, by weak and
lazy I refer to those not willing to live up to their ability.
So
what's next? Where do we go from here, as man? As humanity? Around
the next corner will we find
the future or a turn to the
past? To be prepared for everything means to be successful at
nothing. Specialization is the word of the information age, but what
are those of us whome are
bored of specialization left
with? We're left with internal storms ripping and roaring between
conformity and success, in a town that feels like it's called
Failure. Some of us are mayors of this town, but I want to move.
Failure isn't trying and not succeeding, failure is not
trying.
Self-motivation
is perhaps the most difficult eating utensil to
find on our metaphorical
tables. Where does it come from? Sure, hunger tells us we have
need. But self motivation must be some far off, foreign,
long-forgotten recipe that must be too good to be real. A 'holy
grail', so to speak. It's well above and beyond what a set of jumper
cables can do. Answers, where are you?
Is
there some voice, some carelessness, some ringing in our ears that
tells us when there's an opportunity in front of us we shouldn't pass
up?
What's
wrong with us that instead of searching harder we would rather pierce
those almost invisible chinks in the armor of those who show us love
and compassion and future? While we lie in wait, while we anticipate
being the figurative phoenix rising from the ashes of what our
childhood selves knew we could
be, we choose battles that don't matter. We start
arguments so we can feel like we've at least won something. But
those who love us, and stick by our sides, they don't deserve this
from us. They deserve more focus, more caring, more love. They
deserve not to be victims and casualties of our merciless search for
success
and perfection, they deserve our recognition, and our
thanks, and our
undying love.
We
all, to some degree, remain stuck inside
ourselves. We all reside in coffins within our own brains, buried
alive and suffocating to death. Our dreams will die this way unless
we claw our way out, dig tunnels to the surface and emerge survivors
dedicated to meeting and conquering every challenge.
The
worst saying I have ever heard is, “Think outside the box”. I
refuse to think that there is a box. I refuse to think that
originality is dead. There are new ways of doing things, of saying
things, of telling people things, of
selling things and of creating things.
They're out there. Maybe it's because we've seen so many flavors of
these 'things'
over the years and decades and centuries that it's just easier to
pick one that's worked and has been working than to think of a new
way. A better way. A cleaner way, a way that is less harmful. A
way that protects those whom cannot protect themselves. The
computerization of the world has further pushed us into conformity.
We have lost creativity, originality, and character. We think inside
the box more so now that ever, especially now that the box is a
physical, identifiable, tangible thing. If the computer can't do it
then we can't do it. I'll tell you what, people – we accomplished
unimaginable things before the implementation of the computer; from
an engineering standpoint, we went to the moon. We created an
aircraft that is the fastest and
highest flying naturally
aspirated human-piloted
machine ever build by man; we
did it over 60 years ago. And
we did it all without computers. People and their brains thought
this stuff up, not computers and websites and social
media and the cloud.
We
all give things up, we quit, we 'sell out'. For better or worse, we
have to admit those things cannot be undone. It doesn't matter how
much we miss those things and activities and freedoms, they're gone
and it's over and it's time to grow
and move on. It's
time for what's next, it's time to let go. You've
shed your tears and you've said your goodbyes but you fell like
you're stuck and that next step feels impossibly far away.
Meanwhile, through the fog
that is need and want, you try to identify what you want. I just
want to feel like I made a difference. In a life, in two, in three.
A difference significant enough to improve lives. I search around
for something to mimic and I can't find it; the difference I'm
searching to be a part of may not yet exist.
For
right now, for tonight, until tomorrow, I sit in tears. What's
the answer? I'm patient but I want to know, I need
to know. What's next, what do I do, where do I go from here? I'm on
the top rung of the ladder frantically searching for the next step,
looking for that next ledge to reach up for. I refuse to give into
the notion that I'm a climber who's reached his peak. The mountain
I'm on is higher than this, it's got to be. I just need to find that
next handhold, that next foothold, to get me to that next foot
further up. Where
is it? I'm going crazy
searching, waiting, attempting patience, and searching again, then
waiting, and questioning whether I'm on the peak, and the searching
more. I need to know. I need answers. What's next, where do I go,
what can I do, who should I talk to, what can I say? Utterly, truly,
tonight as I sit,
I am without a paddle.
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