Despite how it may appear by all accounts, especially here, I have an aversion to talking about myself. I mean, I talk all the time and obviously my self is the topic I know the most about-- so it seems (it person, especially) that I do not shut up about myself. At least sometimes, to some people. But in a public sense (and sure I could be writing this in a journal and not the internet, but I like the accessibility this gives me, compiled with my suspicion that no one reads it anyway) I do not like sharing. There are a lot of reasons for this, some of which might seem crazy if I share them prematurely, so I won't... but let me point out that I have eradicated all personal information from my facebook profile. It does not offer my educational background, my religious beliefs, my sexual orientation or my workplace-- it says only that I am the Brigadier of the Ridgecrest Yacht Club. I cannot say that's a lie, and neither can you, I suspect, so make of it what you will.
My reservations being what they may, however, I have spent some time today reviewing things I have written in the past. My other blogs (and for some reason the twitter account I rarely use and never take seriously) apparently offer a glimpse into my past. Surprise, surprise. It's a nice little window of various points of the past few years, which is lovely. I have one idea of myself and my personal evolution in my head, and then another, similar but not quite the same rises out of the shadows in what I wrote before. Usually I am pleasantly surprised, and against all odds my impression is generally just "I've really gone downhill, haven't I?" That's a bit of a lie, I've been really the same person forever, deep down, and acutely aware of it since I was 8. I knew what I wanted to do since I was 13, officially, and while life is change, and these things may change, so far I have known without doubt the only thing I can do.
This being said, the past few months I accidentally overworked myself for the first time, well, ever. I didn't think I'd do it, if at all (silly me), for at least many years... I love being busy! How could I burn out? Well, I did. I think it was a lot real fast with insufficient reprieve-- I was having so much fun I didn't realize I needed to breathe to maintain my pace. Worst of all, I haven't acted much. Oh how I took for granted the freedom of earliest youth (note, you, I was very conscious of how precious my childhood was-- this part just didn't occur to me), in that I spent all my childhood acting. Playing pretend, creating characters, worlds, stories, seeing everything before me for the thousand possibilities it could be in the lenses of my mind, my imagination. Growing up is not easy, but it is necessary, and given the alternative it is beautiful. I have always been afraid of losing my imagination, because when I see so many, my age and older, and now younger, around me-- they do not seem to see the magic of life. Slowly, as my life becomes more exciting, I have had less need for fantasy in my own experience. Why imagine fighting dragons when you are meeting artists and Academy Award winners, driving unknown roads, windows down, music blaring, with nothing but your best friend and a camera at your side?
My worries are still there, and likely will be, if not forever, then until I allow myself the creative free reign I am so unfairly restraining in the interests of a long-term plan. I could do it now, act now, create now, in full-- but as much as my heart and soul desire it, I am not ready. I am young (sometimes a detriment, always true) and I have things to do. I have youth to enjoy, and that is a fleeting gift-- once gone, never to return, and I am fortunate to have a youth so blessed and ready for me to savor. I have so much to learn-- always more, it's true, and I will never stop, but I am not ready to make my moves yet. Like a general on the verge of a mighty battle, I want the right troops, trained their best, with all equipment at the ready, before I jump in. Not to say I am waffling out of fear or trepidation-- to the contrary, my soul is biting at the bit to do it. Do it now! Fear has to place-- it may be foolish, it may be naive, but I have no doubts. I have my goals, and they are less destinations than my core, a path rooted in me, part of me, that I must follow, no beginning and no end. A channel like time, I must only continue to feel I have succeeded.
Certainly, I could change. I could be a different person, anything can happen. I am anxious when I do not feel acutely the passion within me. I fear of losing it when I am not paying attention, if only because I know the way change sneaks up on you and then it is too late to turn back. Of course, if I change, then I shan't be the person who'd bemoan it-- I would be a different person.
My current crisis troubles me. But really, I have never been burnt out before. I have never needed to stop. It is not an easy thing to do. I know I have been doing too much, that while satisfying to my intellect it is not sufficient fuel for my soul. It's had enough-- I must replenish, I must experience nothingness. C'est dificil, faire rien. I suspect the lesson is best learned now, when I have the fortune of time (no school for now, the liberty of nothing-- a far more precious gift to my mind than any internship or temporary summer task, at least for one in my position). It is not easy to slow a speeding wheel, especially one that knows a hill is coming and a gain in speed is soon needed. Letting go of that momentum is stressful-- but I suspect the fear of losing it is silly. In order to continue at full speed, I need to refuel a little now. If it is truly right, I will not lose my will-- and I do not think I can, or at least I never have doubted it. I do not doubt it now-- it is merely that knowing what I want and not bulldozing my way to it is terribly hard. However, I suspect my power lies in strategy, in stealth and grace, rather than force. Strength is vital to perseverance, which I may well need, but there is more in life than instant gratification, and experience is not merely valuable, it is in many ways all that life is about. Experience is dependent upon change, and change is the essence of life, the ultimate oppressor of death.
I write these things for a future self, older though I'll not say wiser-- that is a determination I could not dare to make. Can anyone? I have known many things, and am generally successful in my fights for what I do, what I want-- but stillness, a break, a step back and a lie down, I do not think is a thing to fear. To stop growing, that is the frightful thing. But even in stillness we may change, even in silence and peace may we grow. Am I too young for this conversation? I don't know. Maybe I am wrong, but I am going to find out. I need to learn not merely the value of (which I have long been aware of, flaming hypocrite that I am), but the lessons of lying still and truly, profoundly, relaxing.
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