Teadia

Between the here and now and what will be, there is something more than we understand. As things stand, there is about a ten minute walk between the parking lot and work for the job I’m on. I do not really enjoy this walk. I would like to just get where I’m going and be done with it. And yet, a hint, a suspicion, a small whisper, reminds me that there is something I don’t know. I am reminded of what a teacher once told me, that you’ll value things more when you work for them than when they’re just given you. The gods of the copy book heading are always despised. I submit to the walk; not that I have a choice in the matter, but I accept that it is perhaps the thing that makes the difference. I give up the dream of simply fast-traveling there. Besides, the loading screen probably would take just as long as the walk. Yet, it also seems to me an image of a larger pattern. This life is full of things I wish I could skip, some of it painful and much of it tedious, and yet perhaps in these walks, as I try to get where I’m going, is a sort of sanctification. How do I avoid cliché? Is the journey more important than the destination? I do not think that possible, but maybe the journey is the destination. Maybe the road is the place we’re trying to reach, or maybe, the person we become is the journey we took. This job I’m on is not the job I want to do; it itself is one of the infinite teadia I walk. I try to walk it with the best humor I can, praying all the while that I can make it to the goal, that one day I can be a writer, that is, live off of my love. God knows. I admit, I am battling despair, and even little trials of ten minute walks to work seem to crush my spirit beyond hope.