A Sunday in November

It’s been a few months since I wrote. I don’t want to force it. It seems I write less when I am happy with my life and busy trying to reach various goals. So I guess it’s a good sign that I’ve been writing less lately. At the same time, I have on multiple occasions been looking back at old texts of mine and rediscovered several angles, takes and ideas that have both comforted and inspired me. So I want to keep writing. Perhaps my writing in times of happiness won’t be as powerful, though. Or maybe just less useful. But then again, I don’t actually write with usefulness as the primary purpose. It’s a nice side effect at times, a bonus of sorts. But no, I write for the sake of expressing myself, and to both explore and preserve the various thoughts and ideas that float through my mind. Writing brings a special kind of clarity in and of itself. It’s as if a focus is enforced in the act of pushing words through the tiny bridge between my mind and the physical world that is the act of writing. I enjoy it. It is fascinating to me that a thought that was just a moment ago nothing more than a vague and escaping sensation in my head is now frozen on the sheet before me. It seems to be purposeful almost no matter what sense the paragraphs end up making or not. And I have definitely experienced that the words have increased in meaningfulness as time has passed, even though they might have seemed feeble and impotent when they were first written. Maybe it is simply not possible to foresee or immediately judge the value of the text produced. And so I will not focus on potential value, but rather just write what I want to write right now.

I still feel special. I still feel there is a calling on my life. I still feel that there is something great that God will let me partake in. I am waiting for him to lead me to it, to reveal it, to manifest it. What is the point of all my achievements? What is the point of all my personal development and my many strengths? If those gifts are only to bear fruits economically, then they are just as useless as their opposites. Is this what the Teacher was talking about, when he said that wisdom is just as meaningless as madness and folly? I think so. But I see it as an illustration, more than a conclusion. It seems to me that the Teacher is not as despondent as his conclusion would suggest. Rather, I believe that he took it as proof that it is God that makes the difference. Because wisdom is better than folly. Good is better than evil. This we know. These truths lie hidden deep within ourselves, as unquestionable and inexplicable axioms. Trying to measure them with only human wisdom though, they are all the same. For it goes with the wise as with the fool: they both perish. Seemingly. But God has made them different, God has given his wisdom to the meek and humble, and he has hidden the truth from the arrogant and the proud. The question is, am I humble enough to take the next step?

I have no goal with this text. I don’t pretend that every post I make will be profound or reveal some great insight. I don’t even know when to stop. But it is deeply satisfactory just to write, and as long as it is I will keep doing it. I don’t need anybody’s approval, I don’t need to analyze or judge my own texts. They are written not to be read, but to be written.

Trying to break out of the meta-discussion about my own texts and actually write something anchored outside of this bubble, I would like to mention that I now very much enjoy working full time and having a clear career goal in mind. It brings value to my spare time as well, and all in all it seems that my temporal resources are better utilized and more purposefully spent than they were for the prior 9 months or so.