Woke up to the sun creeping over Mauna Loa sending it’s blinding light straight through my east-facing window, bathing my groggy face in a not-uncomfortable heat. Been on the island for almost a month now, getting used to the intense sun, the humidity, the plethora of plants and animals all around me.
Turning 25 today and it’s kind of bugging me out. I mean, I’m halfway through my 20′s already, and some days after work I feel middle-aged, the years of hard living starting to take it’s toll, my hands callused and scarred from 10 years of working random jobs, none of which deal even remotely with my passions (although carpentry is VERY satisfying work). I feel good about the things I’ve accomplished, the knowledge I’ve gained from school just a foundation, a stepping stone to my own independent studies in politics, philosophy, art and culture. I’ve seen things in my short 25 years on this planet that some will never even realize existed.
I’ve watched the desert sun rise from the side of a dusty highway in Nevada, marched through Times Square leading a group of radicals in a “power to the people” chant, danced under the moon until my legs literally couldn’t support my body anymore, lived all over this country, spent time in others, watched the shift from an analog to a digital society happen right before my eyes…
And still, after 25 years I haven’t found my place in all of this chaos we call existence. But then again, maybe my place, my path, my fate is to not have a set direction, a set goal. If you don’t believe in destiny are you doomed to wander the globe in search of meaning, of truth? I feel I’ve learned so much and seen so many different things that it’s my responsibility to share it with the rest of the world through these words that come so easily to my fingertips. I want to write books, to recite epic poems, to create music and art that sends chills down people’s spines. But at the same time I can’t find the willpower to sit down and accomplish all these things because my attention is so fragmented, so involved in the world right in front of me that it’s hard to detach myself from the NOW, to take a step back and look objectively at the whole mess and figure out which direction to take.
A quarter of a century makes you realize how short our lives really are, how insignificant one human being is in the whole course of history. I feel as if I don’t make a mark, leave behind some trace of who I am, what I think, the things I’ve done and seen, that the tidal swell of Time will just keep rolling on and my legacy will disappear.
I don’t want to be insignificant goddamn it! Call it narcissistic but I feel if I don’t leave a significant mark; a book, a painting, a song, a poem that others can look back on decades, hell even centuries from now and be inspired by, then what’s the point of my being gifted with this unique vision of the world?
I was born into a special time in the course of human evolution, the technological shift from analog to digital during my childhood, the explosion of global communication and rise of the Internet during my adolescence, the slow progression of economic globalization, of worldwide capitalist control still happening in my first few years as a man.
25 years. A quarter of a century. Two and a half decades and I haven’t even begun to understand the world or my place in it. Sure I get a little, but every lesson I learn just opens up a new range of possibilities. So I sit here, on an island surrounded by thousands of miles of ocean, staring out my window wondering if what I’m doing is worthwhile, wondering how to make my mark before I leave this earth, wondering if I even have the talent, the power to create something that will be able to survive longer than my physical existence.
Well, I better get started then…or continue the process, whatever you want to call it, but I’ve gotta stop sitting here and contemplating existence because every fiber of my being tells me to get outta my head and just…exist.
