I expect something, and then things change -- my life veers sharply into the dark unknown. Six months ago, I'd assumed I would be in graduate school. When I was ten, I thought I would be at Harvard Medical school -- at some point. Everything changes. Nothing is permanent.
Such is my life. It's always been like this.
A few days ago, I was able to catch up with a professor whom I much admire. He, along with some others, shaped and guided my writing.
I saw him eating lunch -- I had briefly visited my alma matter -- and I asked to join. We talked writing, but I also lamented my frustrations.
I was worried, I told him, that writing would not get me anywhere. He told a powerful, moving story that described his youth. He, too, was unsure. He was expected to be a journalist, but he wanted to venture elsewhere. He took time to find himself. And he walked home, even though the street had no lights -- for a time.
It seemed dark, but something always pushed him. He realized what he was meant to do: write, teach, and minister.
But he didn't figure all that out until a few years ago. He said he had written down his desires in his youth, but he locked them away -- both in mind and in the tangible.
I know my passions, but I need the moment he had -- everything, at some point, needs to click.
Where's my light? Where's my sign? Maybe God can help me out?
As I told him, I think this is why I enjoyed the show 'Lost' as much as I did.
I just need to keep writing, though. Keep writing and let the words flow. Let my soul sing and let my mind dance with the language on the page.
I'm on the island. I need to get home.
