There is no music for this post. Just words. I did not intend to write today...
Until I read the blog of a friend and the ticking clock of life was thrown into the foreground of my current existence. I will link to that blog in a later post (as it is one of my favorite blogs) but would like to leave my readers with this impromptu short prose:
What do you do when a fire emerges that quickly turns into the uncontrollable conflagration which inevitably will consume your soul? Those of you who've walked through fire understand this feeling of helplessness; you are just one individual fighting a war against an army of great numbers eager to devour the essence of your existence. Perhaps the question is not what do you do, but rather what can you do? Furthermore, what will you be left with when all is lost and over? We would not have remorse for lost time or missed opportunities if we always lived with that ephemeral feeling of urgency that lifts our spirit into an everlasting-awakening.
I often reflect upon a story that one of my former bosses from Michigan once told me about the manager of the army depot we used to frequent for our vehicle production. (Forgive me if this story is a duplicate--I am suffering from déjà vue and sense that I've wrote this somewhere before.) The story goes that the manager had inquired about the quantity of some material or part and the response from an employee was that we don't have enough parts or materials to finish all the vehicles on the line. The manager cleverly responds "I'm not worried about finishing production at this point, I just want to start."
I think about that phrase a lot especially as I've been removed from my engineering career and the workforce for some time and I'm left suspended in this existence of being "in-between." I just want to start. I moved here to Boston under the premise that this aligns with what I eventually want to do with my life and it does--I don't spend a lot of my time convincing myself that this is part of the journey. I'm just trying to go along with it. I spent today in an orthopedic surgery conference thing learning about arthroplasty. I just want to start. I spent the summer and most of my time in Boston thus far adjusting and working to move forward against multiple resistive forces of life that keep jilting me back. I just want to start. I just want to start. I just want to start.
Now, in reference to that blog, this week, and some other stories. Outside of my pathophysiology class I have encountered on numerous occasions this week the degenerative diseases that I've learned thus far. There are no coincidences in life. Fatalism prevails. Before I read my friend's blog tonight I was remembering how this individual used to talk to me about his plans to become a writer and his plans to allow him to take leave from work to become a writer. While I did not disclose this to him at the time, I promised myself that I would invest in his "kick-start" (I think that's what he called it?) because I believed in him and I also felt the lingering ghosts of dreams, aspiration, your life's purpose that you know are/is attainable because they hauntingly beckon your motivation and existence now. We kept thinking "we just have to be patient." We just want to start.
Until I read the blog of a friend and the ticking clock of life was thrown into the foreground of my current existence. I will link to that blog in a later post (as it is one of my favorite blogs) but would like to leave my readers with this impromptu short prose:
What do you do when a fire emerges that quickly turns into the uncontrollable conflagration which inevitably will consume your soul? Those of you who've walked through fire understand this feeling of helplessness; you are just one individual fighting a war against an army of great numbers eager to devour the essence of your existence. Perhaps the question is not what do you do, but rather what can you do? Furthermore, what will you be left with when all is lost and over? We would not have remorse for lost time or missed opportunities if we always lived with that ephemeral feeling of urgency that lifts our spirit into an everlasting-awakening.
I often reflect upon a story that one of my former bosses from Michigan once told me about the manager of the army depot we used to frequent for our vehicle production. (Forgive me if this story is a duplicate--I am suffering from déjà vue and sense that I've wrote this somewhere before.) The story goes that the manager had inquired about the quantity of some material or part and the response from an employee was that we don't have enough parts or materials to finish all the vehicles on the line. The manager cleverly responds "I'm not worried about finishing production at this point, I just want to start."
I think about that phrase a lot especially as I've been removed from my engineering career and the workforce for some time and I'm left suspended in this existence of being "in-between." I just want to start. I moved here to Boston under the premise that this aligns with what I eventually want to do with my life and it does--I don't spend a lot of my time convincing myself that this is part of the journey. I'm just trying to go along with it. I spent today in an orthopedic surgery conference thing learning about arthroplasty. I just want to start. I spent the summer and most of my time in Boston thus far adjusting and working to move forward against multiple resistive forces of life that keep jilting me back. I just want to start. I just want to start. I just want to start.
Now, in reference to that blog, this week, and some other stories. Outside of my pathophysiology class I have encountered on numerous occasions this week the degenerative diseases that I've learned thus far. There are no coincidences in life. Fatalism prevails. Before I read my friend's blog tonight I was remembering how this individual used to talk to me about his plans to become a writer and his plans to allow him to take leave from work to become a writer. While I did not disclose this to him at the time, I promised myself that I would invest in his "kick-start" (I think that's what he called it?) because I believed in him and I also felt the lingering ghosts of dreams, aspiration, your life's purpose that you know are/is attainable because they hauntingly beckon your motivation and existence now. We kept thinking "we just have to be patient." We just want to start.
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