It seems especially around this time of year that I find myself repeatedly at a crossroads. I, finished with my state-sponsored education and free from the constraints of joining the labor force, exist in a purgatory somewhere between high school and college, where I will study electrical engineering, with a minor in computer science.
That being said, I have tried to make the most of this short cessation by bettering myself, as well as the world around me in any way I find possible. I’ve found myself involved in painting, photography, writing, reading, cooking, as well as discovered within my throbbing, life-filled bosom a new zest for music, perhaps even most of all. But therein lies the rub: No matter how much I create, or destroy, or comment upon, I am never truly satisfied. I’ve come to realize that perhaps “Art” is not a noun, persay, as Western philosophy would have you believe, but perhaps it is a “verb”. Maybe beauty is something that cannot be created or destroyed, but is an action that must be performed, perhaps like a ritual of some sort, in order to enrich our lives. Perhaps music is not a series of notes on paper, or a series of scratches on acetate, or even a digital encoding, contained within a mobile hard drive. Perhaps music is a constant torrent, a living document of all human culture and history, distilled and purified by the grace of the human soul. What is love, after all, but a distant ideal to be striven for until the day we all perish?
As complex, intelligent life forms, for all we know alone in this universe we inhabit, I believe that we have been granted through our innate sense of creativity freedom and sovereignty from the world that “is” to travel the world that “could be”.
Love, art, music, beauty. As nouns, they exist as little but transient knick-knacks, tchotchkes that, let’s face it, have little to no real significance concerning the universe as a whole, (What is the Mona Lisa but entirely ordinary paint on an entirely ordinary canvas?) but as verbs, they take on an entirely new, startling implication. One realizes that it’s not the product that matters, but the act of creating. I implore you to look and listen intently to the world around you. Smell the aromas and taste the exotic flavors of the world, touch it and feel how it touches you back. To live, one must love life, and to love life, one must exist beyond what “is” and embrace what “could be”.
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