Sunday, January 17, 2010
I'm lost, and I'm realising that maybe that's what life is. Accepting that you are lost and that you will continue to be lost. Being lost isn't really "being lost" at all. It's really just being. Living the best you can, enjoying the journey, or at least just moving. Whether your preferred movement is international or from couch to kitchen, it's living. I'm never going to find myself. That's fine. Everything I do that would lead me to believe I know to at least some degree who I am is a farce. I just am. That's not to say that I lack a personality, or goals, or aspirations, but those things do not define me. My house, my college, or my bank account do not define me. My actions do not explicitly define me. I have complete control of my future, every event outside of myself is in my control, because it depends only on my reaction. My body serves as a vessel to provide me with the ability to move through life. Thus I must take care of it and do my best to protect it from physical harm. My mind is under my control. Nothing is impossible unless I decide it is such. If I decide something is possible, it is, I just have to work out how it is possible, sometimes this will take awhile. I must accept that sometimes things don't just come naturally, it takes hard work and determination, as well as a detachment from the obstacles placed before me, so that they can be navigated with reason. I will love, but that love will not define me. I will accomplish, but those accomplishments will not define me. I will set goals, these goals will be flexible and move fluidly around any hurdle placed before them. My existence is not permanent, but it is not meaningless. It means whatever I decide for it to mean.