When I woke up today, I felt a strange sense of smallness. A sense of struggle. An internal battle to forge myself into something greater, wiser, better than who I am now. I know I have come a long way–I have accomplished things through luck and vicarious circumstance that I am extremely grateful for. In the grand scheme of things I have been a very fortunate individual: I had a wonderful childhood, loving parents, a great education, the means to study (and then live) abroad, and I’ve met the woman who completes me in a way no one ever has (or will) again–and I’m not even thirty.
But, when I take a moment, a real moment, to just sit back and look at the other people in the world, who have lived before me and in my own time… when I consider all the new people that will be born from here on out, and the things humanity has accomplished, what it will accomplish, it just blows my mind.
That smallness I felt?
All my life I was told I was smart- clever, intelligent. And so I grew up feeling like I was naturally inclined to knowledge and wisdom; to talent, in whatever my endeavor–I got lazy, and my world-view remained small. But today, it really hit me how much the world is really capable of.
When I think about all of the geniuses, all the amazing people in the world… all that these people in the arts, literature, sciences, music, humanities do, I feel small. But, it isn’t negative. It gives me hope for a higher platform, a higher purpose, a higher art, and I will keep climbing, keep growing, until my faculties no longer allow it.
I will read. I will explore, experiment, discuss, debate, and share. I will never settle for what I can do easily. I am small, in this wide, wondrous world, but I have the capacity to grow, and to shape its unfathomable complexities.
“If you want to write, if you want to create, you must be the most sublime fool that God ever turned out and sent rambling. You must write every single day of your life. You must read dreadful dumb books and glorious books, and let them wrestle in beautiful fights inside your head, vulgar one moment, brilliant the next. You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads. I wish you a wrestling match with your Creative Muse that will last a lifetime. I wish craziness and foolishness and madness upon you. May you live with hysteria, and out of it make fine stories — science fiction or otherwise. Which finally means, may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.” —Ray Bradbury