Is there a more beautiful sound than the rustling of leaves, or a better sight than that of a cloud in the sky? Writing is so weird. I am putting my thoughts on an empty page. There is nothing here at first, complete blankness. And I can transfer, or at least I could if I was a more skilled writer and thinker, a universe of thoughts onto it. And it’s so simple. I don’t need to build a crazy machine, or physically labor for it. I just write some words on a page. Each word, simple, unique, and motionless. But when strung together by a wordsmith, and looked upon by eyes of understanding, they are imbued with more meaning than anything else in the world.
I could write about the minutiae of life. About where I am, where I’ve been, who I’ve seen, what I’ve encountered, and so on. But doesn’t that get a bit boring? That is a very honest way to write. It is very sincere and frank. And that is how I often write, when I am at a loss for anything else to say. But today, I think I might leave the reader in mystery. Where am I writing from? What have I done today? Where have I been, who have I talked to? These are just trifles, there are more things on my mind today. And instead of skirting around the surface, entertaining pleasantries, courting a reader like a good writer, I would rather dive in.
I was thinking today that one of the best traits one can have is relentless optimism. An optimism that stands the seasons, the vicissitudes of life, immovable and grounded. Hope that does not just stay when convenient, and leave when it is fashionable. But an optimism that pervades one entire being, from their toes to their eyes, suffused within the blood that beats into one’s fingers, and the heart that beats that blood, and the mind that guides the body.
It is far better than pessimism, and even pragmatism. The pessimist is guarded from pain by their lack of expectation, but in doing so they also lose their joy. The pragmatist sees the world as it is. In their reasonableness, they live a good life, a solid life. They are motivated when necessary, and dissuaded when appropriate. But the optimist resides in their delusions, which imbues them with unrelenting motivation. They don’t know when to quit. They shoot far more often than they score. And in their delusions, their uplifting dreams of greatness fabricated from nothing but pure will and hope, they believe they can change the world, that things will turn out for the best, and that their lives are theirs to master. The optimist feels a gulf of sorrow, is stabbed through their vulnerability, and pierced by disillusion. But they also soar on the currents of achievement, billowed by sails of belief, their ship pushing further out into the ocean of the unknown than anyone before them.
I aim to embody more of this. My optimism often strikes hard and runs fast, but I’d rather have it stay for a while. To be grounded in hope, to have an open mind that flows like water around rocks, and to keep stepping one foot in front of the other.
When I was fourteen, what did I imagine my life would be like ten years later? In what ways has my lived life departed from that, and why? I’m less interested in the exact factual details of what I wanted versus what happened, but rather in the subjective quality of life. For example, I initially wanted to be an astronomer, since I was captivated by space when I was young, but now I have become a software engineer. But I don’t care about that distinction. What I do care about is if my life feels different than how I’d imagine it would feel. Perhaps when I was younger daydreaming upon a life as an astronomer, I imagined my life would be full of wonder, purpose, and discovery. Does my life now still have those qualities? Perhaps when I was younger, I imagined greater consistency in my life, my mind behind my body behind my work. Did I foresee a fragmented life, where half my day is lifeless and draining and the other half frenzied and hopeful?
I think the vision of my life when I was fourteen would have been one of harmony. I imagined my life guided by a unifying principle: curiosity fueling my work, purpose guiding my body, and all of it resulting in intense focus and determination. More so than blind joy, I saw myself with calm purposefulness.
My life has wandered a bit away from there. But I hope to get it back on track. I am certain I can. Overall, I want to live a life I am proud of, one suffused with purpose, with hard work, with focus, with thoughtfulness, and with kindness. One where days are bright, where my eyes can look far towards the horizon, where I am surrounded by people who inspire me and where I hope I too can inspire others.