Tuesday, December 30, 2008

A rant on genes.

My face resembles my ancestors. My thoughts and feelings use some of the same synapses, conduits and processes. As genes flow down from one generation to the next, I carry some of the same gifts, some of the same afflictions.

Yet I know nothing about my ancestors ...

I do not know if they succumbed to their afflictions, living a life of poverty while the world went on around them. Or did they aspire with their gifts, fight off any sense of disparity and conquer the world around them? Or did they simply get along with a laugh and a smile?

I want this world to be of my own making, but it would be nice to see how my ancestors handled certain situations. Roads I should consider, maybe roads I should stay away from ...

But I am different from many of them. They may have been racist, they may have been less educated, in a world with less technology, in a world with more or less despair, more or less known problems. The possibilities could go on.

But one great member of my family smiling at me through my genes would be nice. Does not everyone wish his or her ancestors overcame great obstacles. Does it not give the sense of a certain special attribute. My brother and sisters have red hair. Does that mean I am Irish, and the gift of reading and writing, the gift of literature fuels my heart and fires my existence? Or is the gift of literature just a stereotype fitted within a culture, meant to offset the overpowering culture of the drink that followed that culture.

Or are my genes, viking genes? The ruthless genes that sought out adventure and warfare. My brother has committed his life to the military. And I have a life committed to rock climbing and going on crazy adventures (if I can actually work it out to go on some.)

Yet my attitude of life is to focus on today and now. No past. No future. No beginning. No end. I am one with my ancestors. I am my own self.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Life in the flatlands.

I had my reasons for coming back to central Illinois.

I must walk away from the Midwest, not run.

Part of this place adds to me ... It is the place I learned how to ride a horse, the meaning of hard work and the importance of family.

Boredom-fueled imaginations delivered some truly crazy times.

However, I also felt an insatiable burning to get away. Colorado, my refuge, was the place where my mind grew and formed. It is there I gained an understanding of life, morality, hope and open-minded thinking. Colorado introduced me to climbing and a fulfilling life.

I have been too excited to leave for far too long. I must face this and must leave with a smooth step so I never have to return.

It is this I came back to face. I have to face my fears and my demons. I must do it constructively, or part of me will always be trapped in this place.

I am young. My patience waivers. It must grow. I will never endure otherwise. My thoughts must move inward, on bettering myself not only by actions, but by thought, papers, reading and philosophy. I must meet this challenge with deliberate action.

Long days wait for me, but I have many goals. I am building something here, and my job goals are noble. I am to connect a small liberal arts college with the surrounding communities, help develop programs and build a framework from which others may work in the future.

It is the good fight. It is a reason to stay until July, to face the demons I must face.

I stopped writing in this journal long ago. I hope to bring it back.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

a long entry

Some days it will be warm evoking my jovial side. My happiness reminds me of times past when the weather had been the same: warm days in Florida, warm days in Portland, warm days of my youth - days roaming in pastures and wooded areas.

Here it doesn't remind me so much of Colorado. The air was dry there. The sun could warm me up on a cold day or burn in the heat. Colorado woke up the primal side of me. The side that wanted to survive, that wanted to thrive or dive into something full force and never let go.

The warm here wants me to breathe deeper, bury hope and live within a single moment. A deep breathe is all I have. It is the only moment. I don't like to think of tomorrow, of a goal, of a test ... of anything other than right now. Though, I do let the past creep up on me now and again.

But that is only when it is warm.

When it gets cold here. I hope for warmer days. With few cold-weather adventures, I seem to hold my breath. My greater work goes unfinished, and I wait for a moment when I can breathe again. I know I'm making too much of it, but I am really getting sick of the cold.

So maybe I'll live in Hawaii this summer. I no longer expect anything. I make tentative plans and flow with life. The other way is too painful, too shocking. A book on Buddhism made it seem controlling to ever make resolute plans. Why should we ever think we can control life?

I sent a letter to someone I haven't spoken to for a very long time. She was an ex of mine from way back in the day. I read something that reminded me of her, and I thought it was time to apologize yet again. I don't know if I'm really sorry for anything or the way it all happened. I grew so much from the experience. But I still think it affected her so badly. I hate it when my actions cause distress to another. It doesn't trouble me anymore, but I would hate to think anyone has to go on hating me or ruining good times with even a glimmer of me. I don't apologize much on that account, sooner forgotten ... sooner gone.

If I could really get a grip on one real opportunity for the future, I would let loose a whirlwind of hope. I think I could be great. But I feel all the hope that I've saved, accumulated for this very hard period is seeping from my soul. It leaks out like a mist. So I always seem hopeful, but deep inside it stays buried. I always thought my trial by fire would come all at once, in a single moment, proof for myself. But it's not like that at all ... It's a persistent trial. It stings at my heart, draws away, permits me to rebuild, brings me nearly to death and allows me to rebuild yet again - all this in a circle.

Mais, c'est la vie. J'espere.


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Ambitiously enduring.