Just because something is undeniable doesn’t mean it’s believable.
Sean Maguire: I just have a little question here. You could be a janitor anywhere. Why do you work at the most prestigious technical college in the whole fuckin’ world? And why did you sneak around at night and finish other people’s formulas that only one or two people in the world could do and then lie about it? ‘Cause I don’t see a lot of honor in that, Will.
Will Hunting: I didn’t ask for this.
Sean Maguire: No, you were born with it. So don’t cop out behind “I didn’t ask for this”.
I believe every one is made to do something, the hard part is coming to grips with “it”.
There are few nights more restless than those on the brink of comprehending the purpose of your life. Confusing questions drop from the ceiling to your pillow:
“Why did I do all that other stuff?”
“Have I been wasting my time?”
“Am I just going crazy?”
There is a healthy insanity at work in shedding old ways for new ideas.
We encounter everything we’ve known, turn all the pages of our history, then cut it to pieces.
As I continue to unleash my creative river from behind the dam of my past, strange thoughts surface. In the blissful moment after a well-crafted sentence, I get ecstatic and proclaim my own greatness. (Mind you, not better than others but full of myself, celebrating my ability.) I wander into unfamiliar territory open to the possibility of making words my life–and I become very uncomfortable.
“I honestly have trouble writing when I get like this,” I texted a friend last night.
“I feel like I have something unique and incredible, yet at the same time am afraid to say that. Maybe it’s just the lack of proof…I am certain part of my problem is the old tendency to disbelieve without a clear path. I’ve spent the last couple days freaking out about the staircase when all I must see is the first step.”
The sunshine of a joyous brain succumbs to clouds of doubt before the future can blossom.
“It’s wrong to think you’re good.”
“What makes you think you can do something like that?”
“How will you even make money at it?”
The greatest tyranny of all is that we exert on ourselves.
We heap pressure into the confines of our brains, turn the screws in our heads and shackle our souls to the wall.
Then we complain about a dungeon of our own making.
This is the curse of doing something less than we’re blessed to.
Where’s the honor in avoiding our talents and lying about what we could do?