As my days inch forward and time spins in a centripetal manner, distance disassociates me from previous aspirations and leaves me floating in a vacuum of unguided will. Structure has completely broken down for me and the only asylum I have found is that in the hands of a most formidable colossus of a library, from which I run every day to the delicate antithesis of inspiring female hands. I am living in a strange reality that is sculpting me blindfolded with diamond chisels.
Every hour is a reevaluation of the previous and confidence grows as trust in a mystical higher purpose grows. Or is it all just a psychosis of a mind searching for meaning?
Inner tension wound taught....but there is comfort, or so enough for me, with these simple words.
Last night conversation danced gently around Denmark's most esteemed thinker, Kierkegaard. Sitting with these international philosophy majors, I felt almost stagnant in comparison to their self-development. One was going on to pursue her masters while the other had notes of her thesis on the aforementioned Danish thinker scattered all over a nearby desk. I took pleasure in keeping up, but thoughts couldn't help but to focus on my own future, romanticizing traveling to Germany for intense study of Goethe's works, or perhaps even St. Petersburg to immerse myself in my native culture. Such disquiet these preoccupations can cause!
This morning I walked for the umpteenth time past Kierkegaard's statue in the library's courtyard. I decided to read a few passages of his journals to get a feel for this literary great. I was delighted to find a key quote of his existentialist views, and one that would relieve me profoundly.
Instead of hastily finding pre-made track on which I can walk, I found the resolve to continue on my own path that I am creating day by day. Yes, I have to deal with nebulous abysses of despair but I do believe that there is some greater purpose to my zig-zag route.
The crucial thing is to find a truth that is a truth for me.
Consideration for continuing education was a serious one, and one that would surely open up opportunities that I wouldn't have exposure to otherwise. But now, as I sit in one of the most beautiful libraries in the world with the tomes of many a literary titan under my hand, would it be naive to discredit the education I am currently receiving? I believe the best curriculum I can set for myself now is to not lose focus and continue absorbing all of my doubts and utilizing them most effectively as stimuli for creation.
I yet have poems to scribble, screenplays to develop, books to write, and philosophical labyrinths to navigate. I believe it to be more suspect if I was confident of any outcomes.