The Powers That Be
There was something relatively monumental about our last session. I haven't yet decided if it is something of great defeat or one of the more challenging, but ultimately beneficial, obstacles that we have faced as graduate students.
It was an incredibly hard session for me. I watched as my project became stagnant and stopped getting the reactions that spurred me into creative flurry. I suffered as Rin became popular with my classmates where I felt as though she was the opposite of everything that I yearn to do. I struggled as I lulled along in a plateau of stagnation, fear, doubt, and pain. All of this while trying to indoctrinate six new minds into our way of working, exploring a new seminar class, and hearing the ticking of the clock run down on our final projects.
Since the end of the session I have been standing on a precipice. On one side, I fall back into a life of quality auditing. It is a fall, but it is measured. I know where the bottom of the hill lies. I know what the lifestyle entails. I wouldn't be entirely happy, but I know how content I would be, and I would be able to pay the bills.
On the other side is darkness. A blackness so deep I can't even fathom its reach. It is not illuminated because I have no reference frame there. I don't know what could happen. I don't know what the life would be like. The fall could be much, much greater than the other side. But only this side has the potential to climb. Only this side has the potential for true happiness, for that highly sought after place of creative sustenance, happiness, success, and satisfaction.
This is where heroes are made. This precipice is not mine alone. It has the footprints of many souls before me, those brave enough to spurn the status quo, to try to embrace their artistic potential despite the trials and tribulations. But from here I can see those that turned back more clearly, and though I know that many have gone forth into the darkness, I cannot see their path. It wouldn't matter anyway. Their path is not my path. In the darkness you have to feel your way around on your own. There is no tried and true climb with trail markers, lined with stones.
But there is something I can see in the darkness. There are hands extended, glimpses of faces nodding and smiling, the slightest of encouragement that sends a momentary glimmer of hope to illuminate the next step. For the last two and a half years I have continued to take those steps. Sometimes I have fallen. Sometimes I climbed up. Sometimes I stayed level. And sometimes I was carried.
The perseverance to continue is no small feat. It is not something that can be chided and diminished and demeaned. It is the courage to face that thing you are most afraid of head on, to take a step in the unnerving dark. Some of those hands and faces are the ones that utter words of comfort and strength, but there are others, too. Claws that grip and pull and shred what remains of your strength, of your confidence. The darkness has as much evil as good. Sometimes the little blades of discouraging words, arrogant exclamations, and even the shocking pain of silence from a necessary voice make you bleed and stumble.
It is times like these that it is hard to see the progress up the mountain, hard to see just how steep the incline, just how rocky the terrain, just how far you have come. The next step seems so painful and foreboding. The fall back into a life of mediocre contentment seems so comforting, despite the fall, which has been rationalized to be not so bad, not so far, not so painful.
But there are still those good faces, those outstretched hands. In so many ways, the only way to live is to take a deep breath and lean into the fall. If I embrace the dark I am at least trying. If I trust that there is something out there, I will find the next foothold, feel my way to the next ridge. Even the pain of the fall is at least a real pain, at least not the numbness of defeat. I want to live. And if I reach for the outstretched hands they may be friends and they may be foes, but if I am very, very lucky, they may have the wings I need to soar beyond the dark and into the light.
It was an incredibly hard session for me. I watched as my project became stagnant and stopped getting the reactions that spurred me into creative flurry. I suffered as Rin became popular with my classmates where I felt as though she was the opposite of everything that I yearn to do. I struggled as I lulled along in a plateau of stagnation, fear, doubt, and pain. All of this while trying to indoctrinate six new minds into our way of working, exploring a new seminar class, and hearing the ticking of the clock run down on our final projects.
Since the end of the session I have been standing on a precipice. On one side, I fall back into a life of quality auditing. It is a fall, but it is measured. I know where the bottom of the hill lies. I know what the lifestyle entails. I wouldn't be entirely happy, but I know how content I would be, and I would be able to pay the bills.
On the other side is darkness. A blackness so deep I can't even fathom its reach. It is not illuminated because I have no reference frame there. I don't know what could happen. I don't know what the life would be like. The fall could be much, much greater than the other side. But only this side has the potential to climb. Only this side has the potential for true happiness, for that highly sought after place of creative sustenance, happiness, success, and satisfaction.
This is where heroes are made. This precipice is not mine alone. It has the footprints of many souls before me, those brave enough to spurn the status quo, to try to embrace their artistic potential despite the trials and tribulations. But from here I can see those that turned back more clearly, and though I know that many have gone forth into the darkness, I cannot see their path. It wouldn't matter anyway. Their path is not my path. In the darkness you have to feel your way around on your own. There is no tried and true climb with trail markers, lined with stones.
But there is something I can see in the darkness. There are hands extended, glimpses of faces nodding and smiling, the slightest of encouragement that sends a momentary glimmer of hope to illuminate the next step. For the last two and a half years I have continued to take those steps. Sometimes I have fallen. Sometimes I climbed up. Sometimes I stayed level. And sometimes I was carried.
The perseverance to continue is no small feat. It is not something that can be chided and diminished and demeaned. It is the courage to face that thing you are most afraid of head on, to take a step in the unnerving dark. Some of those hands and faces are the ones that utter words of comfort and strength, but there are others, too. Claws that grip and pull and shred what remains of your strength, of your confidence. The darkness has as much evil as good. Sometimes the little blades of discouraging words, arrogant exclamations, and even the shocking pain of silence from a necessary voice make you bleed and stumble.
It is times like these that it is hard to see the progress up the mountain, hard to see just how steep the incline, just how rocky the terrain, just how far you have come. The next step seems so painful and foreboding. The fall back into a life of mediocre contentment seems so comforting, despite the fall, which has been rationalized to be not so bad, not so far, not so painful.
But there are still those good faces, those outstretched hands. In so many ways, the only way to live is to take a deep breath and lean into the fall. If I embrace the dark I am at least trying. If I trust that there is something out there, I will find the next foothold, feel my way to the next ridge. Even the pain of the fall is at least a real pain, at least not the numbness of defeat. I want to live. And if I reach for the outstretched hands they may be friends and they may be foes, but if I am very, very lucky, they may have the wings I need to soar beyond the dark and into the light.
Comments
*smile*
*hand*
*love*