I have thought I am nothing without my dreams. And I have had great ones, that would define generations to come, that would upturn the most famous of paradigms, that would ensure the immortality of my name. What would I be if I did not achieve all that was in my potential to become? Would I not have failed my very Creator? Yet as I go on through these days, these weeks, these months, I have begun to realize that I do not really want those things that achievement of such greatness implies. For instance, I don’t want to be rich. It was a nice thought, some time back, never having to work except what you desired to do — but that lure was to a trap, in my thinking. I realized that such easy accessibility to any and all material desires makes for a mushy, unfocused soul. At least, I believe it would in my case. Things such as great wealth, and fame: my being is too undisciplined for these to be healthy attainments.
I wonder if many of us who are driven to succeed — I wonder if many, if any, step back and ask ourselves why we desire the things we do. I am beginning to do that now, and I understand a little about myself. I have spent a little time away from my dreams, and though I know I shall return to them, I think perhaps I have found some worth outside of the grandeur of such potentia. It is perhaps finding the worth of life without the artifices of what is known to modern man as “success”. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust — from dust you were made, and to dust you shall return, but in between, truly, is life. Meaning can be had from the barest of existences, and your dreams need not come true for you to be worthy of the world, and the world worthy of you. There’s just one question to ask of us, before we are laid to final rest: “Was it love?” And however you want to interpret it, if the answer is yes — there’s nothing more to ask.
No Comments »
No comments yet.