Patience Worketh a Thing I Have Not Found
Today was a landmark event. I was granted a wish I had made years ago. It is one of many wishes which I must work to make true in order to free myself from a powerfully unhappy situation. In this situation, I feel trapped behind a myriad of locked doors that require planning and endurance to break down. I am convinced that escaping my situation is the only way to relieve myself of my unhappiness, and today I am one step closer. But I am not any happier. If anything, I am more frustrated and impatient than ever.
I still find myself wanting what I can’t have. I want my end goal, and the victory seems so small in this shroud of unhappiness. I observe my surroundings, and though a door has been opened, I am still trapped. I have not escaped. I have struggled and fought, bartered and compromised, racked my mind to produce a practical scenario that may alleviate my unrest. At one time, the solution to this dilemma had always been an unwavering contentment; I held a resolve to be happy amidst my circumstance. But something is changed. My ambitions have grown, and they will not lay nicely beneath the cover of satisfaction without gratification any longer.
I am eager for a change. I am motivated toward taking action to promote change. I expect a transformation to occur, and I have outgrown the lethargy I now find synonymous with “contentedness.” Still, the world around me seems static in a sense. I am forever waiting -patiently or expectantly- but am rewarded always with nothing, so what then can put an end to this kind of torment? The longer I have been patient, the more intensely I am tortured in my cycles of impatience.
It was not long ago that I used to think of myself as a patient person -until circumstance found it necessary to “test” my patience repeatedly, constantly. I do not believe I am alone in this experience, I suspect in fact that this may be a struggle which is normal to endure. Just as so many obstacles have found me, I cannot think that I am cursed alone & that there isn’t anybody else combating their own obstacles, big or small. There are many tests we experience in life, and any can feel insurmountable when piled on with other tests we may experience simultaneously (which seems to be the usual way of things in the school of life).
So agitated, so weary, I’m asking myself tonight: What is the lesson learned through relentless trials? is the virtue of longsuffering? Beyond frustrated and eager for a resolution to this bitter way of existence, I begin to contemplate the answer. But I find I am not yet ready to accept it…
What is at the end of “patience?”
“And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” ~ Romans 5:3-5
"Quotes" are inspirational, thought-provoking, and a friend to quiet contemplation. They also require preparation; whether through research of historic statements, or preparation of the mind to simply listen in observation of scenes we encounter daily, and to document them in our memory as they unfold. There’s a purpose for the the kinesthetic "hands-on" type of learning we achieve as we participate in life, as we should. Though equally valuable is the other sort of fulfilling satisfaction available when we remember the pursuit of an education we receive as bookish scholars of life. Watch. Listen. Absorb. Remember all of this. Maybe you’ll capture an inspiring perspective worth reflecting upon. Once you take a break from creating your own resonance, you may take notice of a "quotable" little gem that otherwise would have been lost to the world in all its excitations.
-me. making my brain noises."
L.A. Goes To School
LittleAllison says so much & means so little. How can she learn precision? How can she be concise? LittleAllison will need to defeat her pride & accept instruction. LittleAllison needs some money, and also, to put an end to these excuses.
Scary Thoughts Invading my Happy Place
So, I have been doing my best to read a little more & get the ball rolling again on my old endeavor to wise up & become an adult-like intellectual. I had, at one point in time, quite a bit of momentum gathered on that slope, but through some series of events, decisions, & dumb misfortune (which I haven’t any inclination to delve into at this time), the pursuit of that life path has either lost steam or been put on hold several times. Although, I am sure that I have continued to gain wisdom from inevitable life experiences, those which I have stumbled upon have not been as a result of anybody’s careful choosing. My blueprint for challenging encounters to shape the growth of my young, promising mind (to reach the height & breadth of its ultimate potential) was abandoned some years ago. It could likely still be found half-formed, and clumsily documented between the pages of junior college assignments within several grungy spiral-bound notebooks in a crate in my room at my parents’ house, should I ever gather the time and motivation to unearth it. Ten years later, I doubt it would hold any relevance to the circumstances of my current life.
But regardless of why or how I came into my current intellectual status, I have been reading a bit more now, in an attempt to grow my own brain; to start, it has consisted mostly of magazine articles and blog entries. I blush a little in confessing that I have qualified the following as “light reading,” but I have at times found value in the stimulation that my mind might receive from the occasional “status update” of several facebook friends whom I have judged to have impressively developed intellect; “friends” from my past who I secretly obsess in admiration over their entertainingly noteworthy expressions of wit and the exceeding “roundness” of their education. But mostly, I am envious of their achievements to have cultivated their own opinions, which they have the ability to describe freely, without pause over whether their facts (upon which said opinions are built), might be tainted by the prejudices of their upbringing.
Worse, I am convinced that a large percentage of my own opinions are no more than mere “preferences,” because I know that there are holes in my understanding of the underlying reasoning which supposedly support my “views.” This all makes me very uneasy when I would like to run my mouth with authority about one subject or another; instead, I am largely silent when it comes to discussions of deeper importance. It is a moderately demeaning situation; that whenever I set out to sharpen my mind through the mulling of information and ideas, I find myself simultaneously subjected to the humiliating evidence that I know very little to begin with.
So here’s a scary thought: Who am I to judge at all? (And, Ooohhh, boy do I judge!) When I should find myself humbled through the perspective of relative knowledge and understanding, how is it that I will still catch myself as I am reading from the manuscripts of a peer, a friend, or an utter stranger- rolling my eyes, taking note of small improvements or corrections, or even the slightest hint of revulsion over how poorly composed (or merely average) a piece of literary expression may be?
When I have at last sharpened my mind to my heart’s content, and I am at last satisfied to the extent that I am comfortable to bear my soul in words, on paper or dot-com, for the world to taste & touch. No doubt, the palpable and tangible worth of my work will be rated by peers and strangers alike who haven’t put a boot on the neck of their intellectual growth at any time, and who would be perfectly justified to compare their clear ideas and years of factually bolstered opinions against my naively hopeful shots into the dark I’ll call “editorials” or “opinion pieces.” So if they call my thoughts on paper “dribble,” wouldn’t they be substantiated to do so?
I suppose what has really gotten under my skin is the reverberation of the noise in my head: my confidence loudly begging for assurance from my nerves (which rattle them mercilessly, as it is entirely contrary to the nature of nerves and confidence), and as the request goes largely unanswered, generates the nagging question which no portion of my mettle can appease: “What if I suck?”
Anything, Something, Everything…
Use it or lose it. Take it as it comes. Make it or break it. It is what you make of it. Just roll with it. I’ve had it. I’m going to take it by the reins, I’m going to pursue it, the life of purposeful accomplishments I was made to lead with the mental resources I’ve been blessed to possess. Success or no, this is my irrevocable resolution.
Sorry this hasn’t been much to read, but I just had to get this out into the open.
: WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?
This is rarely answered any way but one: My earliest human memory was that of my own birthday cake. Other semi-distinguishable details include: Grandma’s house, not really being tall enough to see the cake from my height while standing on the floor, and possible music-box-style ballerinas (3) on top of my cake.
This memory is likely confused with another (birthday?) memory of another year when I was at my own house, running to the kitchen in a diaper because they were already singing happy birthday and I was going to be late… Actually, that might be a dream- I don’t believe my own parents ever would have celebrated my birthday without waiting for me, especially at an age when I didn’t wear a watch. It is probable that this is insight into some sort of deep psychological fear of insufficiency, don’t you think?
Thank you for the thoughtful question, Tumblrbot….. Who’s next??