here is where i begin the ascent
(REPRINT, WRITTEN APRIL 23, 2003)
I take my first tiny steps into the abyss, seething with intellectual revolt and spiritual confusion. Unable to grasp the meaning of my life and where I fit in to the metaphysical universe, I stumble over the edge grasping for the answer, my answer, to the timeless questions. Then, I will find what I am to become in life. If I am unable to give a grand purpose for life on earth, how will I ever be able find one for my tiny ephemeral life? If I do not give my life a purpose, how will I engage in action? I am not interested in finding life’s purpose objectively, this, I believe is futile, but rather personally. What I, of my own free will, can search out for my soul and give it to be in accord with my spiritual and intellectual needs. I do not desire the true purpose, simply one that I can create congruent with myself, and thus allows me to attain my highest possible abilities and desires. It is only then that I may be able to exist harmoniously with the rest of the universe.
If having such metaphysical concerns in one’s youth is a disease, I find myself in a very grave state indeed.
At home, there is nothing left. My friends have all been consumed by the everyday desires and toils of life.
“There is no time to think anymore,” says one.
“I have no time for love,” replies the next.
“So you’re concerned with your place in the world are you?” inquires the last, laughing “Forget about it.”
I have tried to forget, but the questions in the back of my mind will simply not vanish. The young man, frequently without knowing it, has secretly begun to fashion within himself a god, who will not shame his heart. These questions made up the God that I had unwittingly created during my adolescence. I must search for the answers in the only way I know how, burying what I know and finding new ways to take root again. I am not running away. I will continually advance, always moving forward, leaving what I love, and my heart breaks in two.
“How long will you continue this?” you ask.
Until I reach the summit, there I will rest.
In my mind I hear a voice replying, “There is no summit, only the heights. There is no rest, only struggle. Reach for what you can.”
This, I concede may be true, but there is a louder, more forceful voice as well. “Create a new summit; remember the struggle, the ascent. Reach what you cannot!”
This is the voice that I have been struggling with ever since childhood. It is the disease that has been slowly spreading deeper into my bowels, into my soul. I once asked a priest how I may be cured of this disease.
“May you never be cured! That is the voice of God. Alas, if you struggle with a lesser, or inferior. But since you are struggling with God, alas if you are ever cured of this disease.”
Like any disease, with the diagnosis comes responsibility to uncover the cause, even if it means digging beneath the many layers of flesh and bone. In this way I must amputate the questions attached to the body from the soul, so that it may stand unburdened, naked in front of God. Then, it will be able to find the answers it needs. This, I tell myself, is why I cannot turn back. To do so would not only be a tragedy for my ephemeral life, but also for my soul and the souls of all of humanity.
I must shape my future with my own two hands; mold it like clay, until it is no longer clay, but flesh. Then I must convert the flesh to spirit, and than the spirit into light. This is can be my only goal.
Yea, I know whence I come.
Insatiable as flame,
I burn and am consumed.
Whatever I touch is turned to light,
Whatever I leave is turned to carbon.
Assuredly I am flame.
-N.K.
