Life Decisions

It's extremely difficult trying to decide what to do with the rest of your life when you can hardly figure out who you really are as a person. It seems as if there is some great schism or conflict in my mind and perhaps even in my identity. I don't know that I can even point to the reason or cause for this, but perhaps that is because there are more than one. I feel almost as if I am in some trap or situation which warrants fleeing, and so I am compelled by some inner urge or instinct to excape my current situation. Maybe I just need something to change... These last few weeks, It's been like everything is frozen and yet at the same time speeding forward, and I have no idea or control over where things are headed. I'm flying by the seat of my pants; shooting in the dark, running blind folded, completely and utterly trapped by this situation. I can't even exactly point to what's wrong with it though, I just know and feel in my gut that something isn't quite right. Is it because Roy is back? The general principle of that matter goes against my grain but when I examine the matter deeper, I wonder why or if it is really a problem at all. I'm concerned about what is likely to happen where he's involved, yet that would mostly affect my mom and little sister, whereas I'm old enough to fend for myself if need be. But I would still be affected. It is not in my nature to ignore matters of principle nor is it in my nature to stand by while my family is put in danger, yet I no longer feel as if I have the strength to do otherwise. Therein lies the conflict, or at least most of it.

Meanwhile, here I am trying to decide on a career path. What college and degree is right for me? But then how do I answer that question when I'm not even sure what I want to do with mylife? I want whatever it is to matter and be significant but I don't know in what way or how. I could see myself as a diplomat or ambassador in the State Department, in which case I should probably go with a Political Science degree. I belive I could be significant and happy in that career. However, there is still the matter of choosing, and succeeding in attending, a college or university. If I don't move out for another four or five years, I could most likely get that degree from a pretty good university without taking on debt. Debt is something I prefer to avoid wholeheartedly. However, if I were to move out and work my way through college (hopefully with scholarships), then I could truly earn the degree myself. It is almost as if I am choosing between the safer, surer, and tamer way versus the more difficult but more adventurous path. I am usually a fan of the latter.

If I were to move out, I would be getting away from the stressing conflict involving Roy etc., but I would be giving up a free education. That free education however, involved attending a private Catholic university and I'm not even Catholic, though I respect some of their views. I'm not sure I even want to attend this school, even if it is free. I don't just want an education, I want an education with which I can be happy and satisfied. Also, if I moved out; I would have to rely on family/friends for a place to live with cheap rent, I would have to rely at least partly on scholarships, and I would have to get a job and work my way through college. Though, I really should get a job either way. It doesn't look good to be 22 years old without previous work history, even if you have a degree. I'm already worried about not having gotten a job yet; which is another product of my situation.

The more I look at the trade-offs, the more the situation just appears to be a wash. Maybe it really just comes down to pursuit of happiness. But it's hard knowing what would really make me happy long term. Perhaps all I can do for now is wait for something to change, but I feel as if this decision/circumstance is bearing down on me and pushing me to the limit.

Bull Wrestling

I slept in this morning, making up for my lack of sufficient rest over the last few days. I started the day, after getting dressed etc., with walking the dogs. At the end of our street, or rather across the street at the end, there was a house being torn down by a massive tractor type of machine. I'm not entirely sure why, but it made me stop and stare for several moments as the clawed bucket bit into the walls and ripped out pieces, turning it into more rubble for which the machine could sit on. I was both intrigued and saddened by this. I have no connection or knowledge of that house yet perhaps in my subconscious, it was a metaphor for something larger. It brought to my mind something I read in a novel about a Buddhist belief that everything which is brought together will, in time, fall apart.

I don't think this particular idea is only to be found in Buddhism, since there is the Christian equivilant, "From dust ye are, and unto dust ye shall return." But perhaps it is better said and summarized in their way, or maybe it is a new way for me which drives the point home anew. Either way, the ultimate mortality of everything earthly "hit home."

But, as I walked across campus in search of breakfast, the clouds finally decided to release their burden gently, and it began raining softly. Having no great desire to get wet and being in no rush, I sat down on a bench under a covered walkway and watched as the rain fell softly between the buildings and oak trees. It was one of those simple yet beautiful events, happening entirely by chance, or by God's unknowable design.

I was reminded both of the fact that everything comes to an end (that can be seen), and of the beauty of Creation. I suppose that there must be a certain balance between realization of mortality and cherishing the beauty of the moment. There is always a silver lining, and the rain stopped after a few minutes. I arose from my bench and continued on my search for sustinance, greeting the postal worker I passed.

It is my rather unfortunate habit to say "morning" instead of "good morning" and my habit came through when I greeted Senor Silencio, as I will call him, as I gave my one-worded greeting. He stoically continued on past me without a word, but still I smiled to myself, strangely feeling pleased at greeting a total stranger. It is possible that he will remember me and be compelled to greet another stranger in turn, and maybe his day will be a bit brightened. Or maybe he'll just forget me and continue bearing his burden silently as he makes his rounds.

When I arrived at the street corner near the baker which had been my second destination (after the University cafeteria), I impulsively crossed the busy street ahead of me as the traffic broke momentarily. I decided to head for a small cozy coffeehouse, though I had no intention of actually drinking coffee. That isn't the point though, just background detail really. As I crossed the rain-slick street (which was Montrose), with my journal in hand, I was reminded of the often wet streets of London and smiled, having found a piece of that place and time here.

One day, I will forget my trip to the UK, along with everything else if I am fortunate enough to survive into senile old age, but in the meantime, I will enjoy many more rainy days broken by moments of sunlight. I will live the hell out of life, cherishing and experiencing much. I don't know how yet, but somehow, I will grab the bull that is life by the horns and wrestle it to the proverbial ground. Then, someday, this thing which is my body will dissolve like snow, and the part which is truly "me" will go home. And that's quite alright, because I will do more than just survive during my time here on earth; I will live strongly, love passionately, and laugh heartily.

Inner Animal

Lately I've been in a rather pensive/reflective mood. I've spent quite a bit of my spare time in the last few days contemplating the meaning of all kinds of things, kind of taking a step back from everything and just observing different aspects of life. One thing I've observed about myself is the tendancy to seem rather like an animal sometimes. Perhaps this is nothing new, and I'm just noticing it more now. I've known for a long time that there is a part of any person, including myself, that hasn't developed much since the age of cave men, when we were little different than animals.

However, these days, most people manage to hide that part of themselves and have moved on to more civilized personalities. It's the little things I've been noticing lately about myself, the little things that point toward an animal within myself. One example is that when I become very hungry, I find myself much more inclined toward anger and mood swings. That anger comes out in unpredictable and unintended ways, flashes of intense impatiance and raising my voice over something completely unrelated which normally wouldn't bother me at all. And that's just from being hungry. I wonder what it would take for that animal inside me to be completely unleashed, but most of the time that animal remains dormaint and hidden. This all makes the "inner animal" sound quite monstrous, but really, I don't think it is by nature evil or monstrous unless misused. There have been an occasion or two in my life when I can't honestly say that I had any control whatsoever over that animal, though it was only for a brief moment or two. During that time though, my strength was at least doubled and I was without fear or hesitation. It was like the entire process of considering and weighing actions beforehand was completely done away with and I simply did what needed to be done. I am glad that I did what I did at the time, but I have also been made very well aware of the danger and power of that animal within me.

Vikings have been immortalized in history as fiercely competent warriors who sailed from frozen lands (modern day Sweden, Finland, Denmark, and northern Germany) and raided sea-side towns and villages in the medieval ages, often without warning, for hundreds of years. They were very effective and powerful, capable of leaving entire towns devastated in a very short time. They came; conquered, looted, and left, killing just about anyone who stood in their way. The most feared and powerful of these fearsomely powerful warriors, known as "Berserkers," were known for their ability to go into a blind rage (i.e. "go berserk") which enabled them to fight and destroy enemies without any regard for their own safety. The Age of the Vikings, barbarians from the frozen north, lasted hundreds of years and influenced the history of dozens of countries. Their greatest weapon was their fierce inner animal.

What makes us human, what sets us apart from the animal kindgom? I think a big part of it is the attempt we make simply to be more than just animals, but we must never cease to acknowledge the existence of that animal, and remember to use it when necessary. The struggle between our inner animal and more human selves must be one of balance and control, neither side should win out completely.

Remembrance

The problem is this: we are all too often forgotten.

We strive all our lives to do important things and have people remember us. We worry about what clothes to wear; what to say, how to act, first impressions, etc., in our striving to be remembered - and not just remembered, but remembered in the way we prefer. Because of this, we are delighted when we encounter someone for the first time in months and they actually remember us. On the other hand, we are often dissapointed when people do not remember who we are when we feel like they should.

Why is this? Why do we attach such feelings and emotions to being remembered (or not)? Do we, as people, base our worth in some way on how well we are remembered by others? And if we do, is that so inaccurate or wrong? Throughout history, people have striven to accomplish great feats, such as conquering all of the known world, just to be remembered and in sense live forever in history. People like Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan, and King Alfred the Great did more than any like them had done before. Both of them have the word "great" in their title now ("genghis khan" means "great ruler"). All of them died and left everything they had accomplished behind thousands of years ago. Nothing; no treasure, no territory, nothing, went with them into the "great beyond." So why did they try so hard to be remembered, and why do I?

Perhaps it is simply pleasing to that person to know that one has left their mark. Maybe that's all it is. Or maybe, just maybe, it's something deeper within us. Just maybe it is something in our "programming," something in who we are as humans, that gives us these attachments of feelings and emotions to something as simple as being remembered and thought about. That's what it really comes down to: being thought about. It means that we are important enough to earn a spot in people's thoughts and minds in this busy world we live in. It makes us feel important to be remembered and perhaps that is a problem in that it is basically a false feeling of importance and worth. But maybe it isn't bad at all to feel good when people we care about think about us and remember us, because doesn't that mean they, in turn, feel the same way about us? It means they also care about us, at least in some way, does it not?

So maybe it isn't such a problem that we care about being remembered, and are afraid of being forgotten. I think it is only natural to want to be remembered, however, there are healthy and unhealthy ways to go about it. Maybe the next time we start eating without thanking God for the food, we should think about the fact that God never forgets us, while we forget about Him all the time.

"This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me." - Luke 22:19

Poetic Prose

So the main reason I'm writing this, actually there are two main reasons, the first is that I haven't written anything just for fun in a few days (I love writing), and the second reason is to procrastinate doing my college algebra homework (I hate algebra).

I don't know what it is about reading and writing that I love so much. Maybe it's just the creativity involved in writing, and the experience of reading. It is only in the world of creative literature that one may encounter everyday things being described so poetically that if you were to repeat the phrase in conversation, it would likely be too dramatic, flowery, or downright cheesy. For instance, one of my favorite literary quotes describes a rather dreary situation. Poor Oliver Twist has spent the night alone wandering down narrow country roads and crossing desolate meadows and pastures, finally sleeping on the damp ground. When the sky lightens and dawn breaks, Charles Dickens describes it using these words:

"'Twas rather more the death of night than the birth of dawn."

I love that phrase, despite how depressing it seems. I love the way Dickens writes in general, though I've only read one or two of his classics. He usually comes off as dreary and depressing, but there is a certain poetry to be found in his prose which I have rarely found elsewhere.

The main point isn't about his particular style of writing though. I gave the example to show how in writing, we can embelish, refocus, direct, shade, and so forth, far more than we normally can any other way. The English language probably has more words than most, seeing as how it's a combination and blending of many languages, and can be used to work wonders when combined with human imagination.

Writing, and reading, can be a bit like a complicated yet flowing dance. It can take you to any period of time and any place on earth (or beyond), while teaching and revealing countless amounts of knowledge and information. I, for one, have learned most of what I know from reading and writing. I learned to write, in fact, mostly through reading - observing and emulating while giving it my own twist or flavor.

"For one who reads, there is no limit to the number of lives that may be lived, for fiction, biography, and history offer an inexhaustible number of lives in many parts of the world, in all periods of time." - Louis L'amour

Truth and Knowledge

What is truth?

Think about it - what makes something true? Is it because we are told by some authorative source that some is so, or is it because we choose to believe it is true, or do we have to experience something ourselves to hold it as truth?

Let's say you find a word in a book and don't know the meaning, but you just can't pass it up because it's a crucial word in a sentence and nothing else makes sense unless you know what that word means. So you look it up in a dictionary. Ok, so now you know the meaning of the word (assuming the definition in the dictionary made any sense) and keep reading. But how do you truly know that the definition was true? Is it because when you use it in a sentence in an essay a year later, after much use in conversation, and your professor doesn't mark it as wrong? Now the exact meaning of a word is pretty trivial in most respects. You're probably wondering why I even bothered to write about it, especially since I just admitted that.

The thing is, if we can't even figure out if something as a word definition is actually true, then how are we going to determine whether or not we want to believe in something as important as God? We, as intellectual sentiant beings, must find our own ways to determine truth. Whether through one of the ways I listed or a combination of all of them, we must be able to find truth and decide whether or not to believe in it. For, after all, if you don't firmly believe in something, how can it be true?

I have something, an idea, I like to call a "quest for Truth and Knowledge." It is very difficult to explain this, because it is very complex and non-concrete. My quest for Truth and Knowledge is more of a way of living or thinking than anything else. I believe that we are all involved in our own type of quest for those very important things - Truth and Knowledge. I capatilize the those words purposefully, mostly to indicate their importance, but also to set them aside from the everyday kind of truth and knowledge. Now, most things are obviously either true or false, but there are many things beyond common sense that require great philosophical reasoning and deep thought. It is for these things (i.e. an existence or lack thereof of a higher being, meaning/purpose of life, sin, salvation, etc.) that Truth and Knowledge, as such, apply.
It is our quest for Truth and Knowledge, which is unique to each of us, which makes us who we are, to a great extent. How we live our lives consists of much of this quest. How we view the world; interpret what we sense (see, hear, feel, etc.), what we contemplate, understand, love, hate, and hold to be true (believe), etc., is as close to a definition of our own quest as can be found. The quest begins when we draw our first breath, if not before, and doesn't end until we exhale our last breath and pass into the "great beyond."

So, while a person who is capable of seeing the blue sky can say with certainty that the sky is indeed blue, a person who isn't so capable would be very likely to disagree. If you think about it, a blind person has no way of actually knowing the "sky" exists except that everyone around him/her tells them it is so. That blind person must either simply accept the sky's existence as fact, and thereby trust those around them; reason it out for themselves somehow, or not believe in the sky at all.

By that reasoning, much the same could be said of the relationship between God's existence and our choice of whether or not to believe in Him. We cannot, after all, see Him - we can only choose whether or not to believe in Him based on our own spiritual experiences, or lack thereof.
We must gather our own evidence, formulate our own theories, and find our own truths. If we are identified by our actions, personalities, etc., then are we not also identified by what we hold to be true, which is developed through our own quest for Truth and Knowledge? Memorizing the verse John 3:16 (For God so loved the world...) does not save your soul. Memorizing the entire Bible wouldn't do you a bit of good in that respect. It comes down to what you choose to believe, hold as truth, and use as such in your life. Perhaps that is what faith is.

"And if it seem evil unto you to serve the Lord, choose you this day whom ye will serve; whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land ye dwell: but as for me and my house we will serve the LORD." - Joshua 24:15 (KJV)

Past, Present, and Future

Sometimes I look back and wonder where I would be if I had made some big decisions differently. There were many times when I could've chosen to stop being Homeschooled and instead could've gone into the public school system. I could have moved away from home early like my brother, but decided not to. I remember that time both clearly and strangely with difficulty. It's like looking at a broken mirror, it still reflects images clearly but it's hard to make sense of what you see. I do remember shaking my brother's hand at the bus station just before he boarded his bus north, then crying softly in the car on the way home. That was one of the few times I have cried in the last several years; I never realized how much it would bother me not having my brother around. But I don't regret the decision to stay, it was the right one for me, just as it was right for him to go.

My memory comes in bits and pieces. There are times when one family member or other will reference something that happened and I will have no memory of it whatsoever. It's easy to feel bad, guilty, or even pity myself when that happens. But I figure there must be a reason why I don't remember, and there are plenty of things I remember that part of me would rather not - the most difficult times of my life for instance which I rarely talk about. I'm starting to sound like a veteran of some brutal war or something, but really my life probably isn't much different than the lives of others.

I don't regret many decisions I've made, and I'm pretty happy with the way things are going now. It's looking like I'll finally be home in a place that won't be such a struggle to maintain or as stressing to live in as it was out in the country, though part of me will always miss the open landscapes and sense of peace and freedom only found there. I'm probably going to graduate next year with enough duel credit hours to skip a year of college. I'll be a year ahead of schedule, which most likely wouldn't be the case had I chosen to go back to public school.

I'm still not sure what I'm going to with my life though. I've narrowed down the options somewhat, though honestly the most fun ones are not really feasible. I'm most likely going to double major in History and English, but I don't know what I'll do after I get out of college. I've always wanted to get at least a Master's degree but I don't have a way to pay for that yet. Where ever I go in life, I hope that I can look back at this time and not regret any major decisions I will be making in the next couple of years. I want to live without regrets, and have some fun along the way. There is something I said to a friend once, "Remember the past but dwell in the present, while stepping boldly into the future." I hope I can live my life that way.

Bravery

It is amazing how unpredictable the strength of an individual can be. There is something inside each of us that either makes us strong enough in hard times to be couragous and withstand those trials, or determines that we are not strong enough to do so. There is no sure way of knowing how strong a person is until they are put to the test. I would like to think, as most people would, that in a fearful moment of great importance and stress that I would be capable of doing what needed to be done - that I could find the courage within myself. But there is no sure way of knowing if I would until it comes to that moment and I face that decision which is made in a split second; to be brave or weak.

I'm not saying being weak is always a bad thing. To be weak often means being gentle, something of which there is far too little of in the world today. What I'm talking about is the kind of bravery that sets you apart from the average person and makes you a person who has an important influence in some important event by the actions of a crucial moment.
However, there are different types of bravery. It is not always found in one moment or even a short time, but also sometimes in the actions of years (I have experienced this), or even a lifetime.

This has had me thinking about my life a lot lately. I've been wondering what impact or importance my life is going to have, what I'm going to do with my life, etc. In short, what is going to make my life matter? Will I go through my life essentially wasting time and waiting for something to happen, or will I step up and grab life by the horns, and actually make something of my time here on earth? The idea of simply trudging through life earning a paycheck or doing something of little significance is definitely not something I relish. I wonder if I will live bravely and be remembered. Everyone dies, not everyone truly lives.

Being brave, after all, is not being without fear, but rather being strong enough and willing to overcome it. As John Wayne said, "Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway." I believe we all have strength and bravery somewhere within us, however deep, if only we can find and use them.