There's so much I could be doing right now (homework, fellowship applications, researching grad schools) and yet I find myself just sitting here in front of my laptop reading poems by Mary Oliver.
Being here, being detached from all I know, I feel that I am finally beginning to understand the world differently. Even the messages I take from my favorite authors is changing.
The words are all the same. The reader is not.
Today I reread "The Journey" - a poem about beginnings and venturing forth into the world. The ending has always been beautiful but even so, it has always bothered me.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do -
determined to save
the only life you could save.
I realize now that I have never really listened to my own voice. So consumed by the need to make it through the day, through the classes, through the degrees so that I could...what?
I've never really known what I wanted to do with my "one wild and precious life." I wasn't one of those lucky few born with a purpose or natural talent that carries them through life. I tried to pretend once that I was one of these people, telling myself I wanted to be a doctor, dentist, writer, hoping that if I took all the right courses and told myself "this is what I want" enough times, it would become truth.
But life's never that simple, is it?
Here is my truth: I am twenty-one years old and a junior in college with three majors and absolutely no idea what I want to do with my life.
A year ago I would never have been able to write these words, thinking that in doing so I would finally have to admit this truth to myself. Three years ago, these words would have seemed impossible. Now they are just reality.
Stranger still, I am completely fine with this. I don't have a clue what I will do with my life or even if I'll even make enough money to feed and house myself, but I still feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be.
I think now I will go forward into the world trying to save the only life I can. My own.
Being here, being detached from all I know, I feel that I am finally beginning to understand the world differently. Even the messages I take from my favorite authors is changing.
The words are all the same. The reader is not.
Today I reread "The Journey" - a poem about beginnings and venturing forth into the world. The ending has always been beautiful but even so, it has always bothered me.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do -
determined to save
the only life you could save.
I realize now that I have never really listened to my own voice. So consumed by the need to make it through the day, through the classes, through the degrees so that I could...what?
I've never really known what I wanted to do with my "one wild and precious life." I wasn't one of those lucky few born with a purpose or natural talent that carries them through life. I tried to pretend once that I was one of these people, telling myself I wanted to be a doctor, dentist, writer, hoping that if I took all the right courses and told myself "this is what I want" enough times, it would become truth.
But life's never that simple, is it?
Here is my truth: I am twenty-one years old and a junior in college with three majors and absolutely no idea what I want to do with my life.
A year ago I would never have been able to write these words, thinking that in doing so I would finally have to admit this truth to myself. Three years ago, these words would have seemed impossible. Now they are just reality.
Stranger still, I am completely fine with this. I don't have a clue what I will do with my life or even if I'll even make enough money to feed and house myself, but I still feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be.
I think now I will go forward into the world trying to save the only life I can. My own.
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