Directions (Dichotomy of thought)

I've been rediscovering the genius of Joanna Newsom lately. I can't stop listening to her music... listening to this strange music and pondering my self-indulgent little life.

OVERLY-POETIC PONDERING: I feel this growing restlessness inside of me. I feel lucidity returning to me. I’m still confused, of course. When aren’t I? but there is still clarity. A million things which were once so cosmic and illogical become somewhat reasonable upon further inspection. There is still mystery. There is always mystery. Without mystery, life would not be worth living. But I can understand things, a bit better.
And it’s not so much about being remembered forever, but about dedicating your life to something. Dedicating this undirected energy, this passionate love, to some singular object. And perhaps recognition comes naturally. And if it doesn’t, I’m not sure if I care. A million people kill themselves and others trying to climb across the sweaty backs of the human herd. But to step away from the herd; to work quietly and diligently in the forest, who can hold that against you? Anyone can become famous; Hollywood has taught us that well. Talent, intelligence, kindness, love--these traits we value most--are not necessary to become recognized.
But that is besides the point. What is more satisfying than chasing a passion endlessly? Than dedicating every atom of energy to some object in mind?
Perhaps passion and recognition, they coincide, as I’ve said before. But the latter doesn’t even matter, don’t you understand?
Look at van Gogh, at Emily Dickinson, at Jane Austen. These people weren’t properly recognized for their genius in their time. But that didn’t deter any of them.
And no, this is not another declaration about misunderstood genius, or about posthumous fame. All I'm saying is that true passion is infinitely more important than recognition. Many people are recognized for their achievements; far fewer understand true passion.



And if only I could find that singular object worthy of all my energies--physical, intellectual, creative. I will eventually. I hope. If I don’t, I fail. This is failure--not merely to chase a passion only to find out it is not your true passion, but to never find a passion in the first place. To me, this is an even greater failure than simply making a mistake, because you couldn't let go of your pride for one instant to explore, to go out on a limb, to experience failure temporarily. You couldn't just step aside and say "I'm not sure yet;" you had to put up the front of the eternal over-achiever, full of the typical pretentious affectations, full of typical "well-rounded" talents and abilities.


REALISTIC SIDE NOTE: Sometimes this whole passionate "Soul-searching" reminds me an awful lot of the dating scene itself... You spend some time with a field. You invest yourself into it. You try to imagine the rest of your life with it. and then, upon deciding it's not for you, you might feel regret and fear.
and maybe once, you find some field that you are absolutely in love with, and so you pour all your time, energy, and money into it, only to find that for some reason, it doesn't work--you can't get a job with it; it's full of superficial people; you're not wanted. It "rejects" you, so to speak.
and then you imagine spending the rest of your Thanksgivings alone and sad inside Johnny V's... well, maybe that last bit is something that only happens in the dating scene. (or at least in my own brain) but you get the picture...