I wrote this on a Whim

 

I wrote this on a Whim...

 And I'm not too sure why.

 

It made me begin to think why anyone starts anything on any given day of the week. 

For me, I was caught up today in my own whimsical thoughts.

As I spent the past two days updating resumes and seeking new jobs, new cities, new everything, I started realizing that maybe Whim is why. Maybe its the key behind the driving force of our human impulse for innovation and revision.

Lately, I've felt a bit stuck. I've been watching videos of the lives of those a few decades ahead of me and wonder how they achieved the cozy little homes and the walls full of books and wonder I so desperately want.

I balance the worth in my head between my degrees, the jobs, how much they pay, how much the life I want costs, how much I need, need, need. As I juggle these numbers up and around in my mind, my little world of whimsy turns grey and cold.

I realize in my pursuit of the whimsical life I so desperately want, I sell my whimsy in exchange for worry. Then it all seems to make a little more sense.

It's not that these people I look up to live such a whimsical life (though there are a few in the world who can afford this luxury), but that they choose their whimsy over their worry. Often they have the same struggles and concerns.

 

Finances,

 Debts,

 Health,

 Future...

It's far too easy to fall                                                                             up...

down the stairs of despair and concern.                                    and

We think we're striving and working towards the         up

 

 But are we instead inching closer to our great                                                 fall...?

I think in the cesspool of shattered dreams lies the last straws of dreamers hope.

Each one thinking their lot was not such a big loss. What's one lost dream in the grand scheme?

As the debris collects and the wind accumulates, they encircle and haunt the next dreamer that comes along. Whispers of warning and caution, tales of regret and failure. Misery loves company and fear is terrified of repetition. Why get up and do it again, it hurt too much.

Does a slow and painful loss of the dreamer within hurt a little less? Make it a little more bearable? It's a privilege to dream, and often a strength.

We do ourselves a disservice when we allow our life to circle around the numbers in our accounts. Once, our biggest concern was how fast we could circle around and escape the goose.

 

I am no stranger to hardship and the need to cater towards our worldly needs to survive, and to care for those under our care. But I also desperately protect my little whim that lies within. This little whim will be passed to the next little whim, and allow theirs to grow.

In a world full of distractions and ever abundant with external amusement, I choose my little Eden at the center of my world.

Let's see where this Whim takes us.

Here's to the first step, in my (not so) whimsical world.                    -CVR