I used to watch Jonny Quest religiously when I was a child. I loved the sense of adventure and excitement. In keeping myself entertained on my exercise bike with these old episodes, today's was one I did not remember: "A Small Matter of Pygmies." Jonny and Hadji and Race are captured by a tribe of pygmies determined to make human sacrifices of them, and only narrowly escape.
As they meet up with Dr. Quest later, he reads a letter Race had been on his way to deliver. In a peculiar twist, it is a request that Dr. Quest participate in a round table discussion: "African pygmies: warm and friendly, or not?" There is resounding laughter as they all agree they are not.
I realized that I felt almost guilty for watching the show, and I wondered why. Of course, it was because nowadays, no tribal group would be permitted to be roundly condemned in such a way on a TV show. Even if there are tribal groups which do practice violent means of relating to the rest of the world, the current view is that all groups and all ideologies must be given equal consideration.
It is odd to have a copy of something so subversive. I'm surprised that in a country which was founded on, among other things, the principle of free speech, I would feel so uncomfortable enjoying someone's expression of it. Is this really a free country? What would a free country look like?
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
"Billions could face water shortages"
After my summer with people who were more knowledgeable about climate change than I am, I admit I still do not feel in a comfortable position to insert myself into the chaos that defines the current discussion of Earth's future.
When all headlines begin to look sensationalist, I wonder. I know it's not acceptable to wonder. I know it's not acceptable to question the quantitative process the scientists at IPCC went through to draw their dismal conclusions.
I'm not denying the phenological evidence of warming. I just wish I knew the exact mathematical process by which these predictions were being made.
And actually, I wish another thing. I wish this debate had not taken the form of a religious crusade. Although with the propensity of mankind for religious crusades, perhaps I am overly optimistic.
For now, I'll keep my questions, and my doubts, to myself. I would not want to get burned at the stake. Of course, burning releases carbon dioxide...
When all headlines begin to look sensationalist, I wonder. I know it's not acceptable to wonder. I know it's not acceptable to question the quantitative process the scientists at IPCC went through to draw their dismal conclusions.
I'm not denying the phenological evidence of warming. I just wish I knew the exact mathematical process by which these predictions were being made.
And actually, I wish another thing. I wish this debate had not taken the form of a religious crusade. Although with the propensity of mankind for religious crusades, perhaps I am overly optimistic.
For now, I'll keep my questions, and my doubts, to myself. I would not want to get burned at the stake. Of course, burning releases carbon dioxide...
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Coming all the way out
After the process of "coming out" about so many aspects of myself I had kept hidden for years, my atheism now seems a glaring exception to the rule. Only three of the people I call good friends even know about this blog. One of them isn't even completely nonreligious, and I actually find myself experiencing some apprehension about her reaction. I don't like that I feel I have to choose between my convictions and friendships. Normally I handle this by never bringing up religion in any conversation. I am the opposite of what most people might think an ardent atheist looks like. I am usually conspicuously silent on the subject.
But what does the silence mean?
A hallmark of most religions (Sam Harris would say all religions) is intolerance for other belief systems. On what basis can I argue that my intolerance for all religious beliefs is different?
I notice the hostility with which most people regard professed atheists - it's easy to see. I have experienced it since I was too young to remember - since the first time a little girl told me I was going to burn in a fire because I did not go to church. Is it possible I have been scarred by religion, like some of the more vocal atheists? Could this be a psychological reaction to a form of abuse? Is there such a thing as a harmless religious belief?
But I did not respond with confidence to this persecution. The last time I recall comfortably arguing about religion was in high school, with a friend of mine who was a misogynist pastor's son. I was at my explosive best, and he laughed constantly. He had such smug certainty, while I wanted reasons and understanding. Then followed years of pursuit of that understanding - class after class about other religions, Eastern philosophy - any ideas other than those springing from the Christian tradition - I tried it all. I went to church. I prayed on my knees. I surrendered myself to a Higher Power.
After it all, the only thing I found was that I felt helpless and dependent. Do all religious people just feel comfortable being helpless and dependent?
So I did not give up on religion easily, once I had decided to find out the truth. But the truth was that it was just as much make-believe as I had initially accepted it was, in my childhood innocence.
But there remain all the religious people in the world, and their silent partners - the people whose reactions are the most troublesome to me - those who don't profess religion themselves, but who disagree with the premise that some beliefs are more irrational than others. There is a philosophical issue at work here - the product of a long line of anti-reality philosophers - and it has become prevalent to the degree that insulting religion is enough to enrage almost anyone.
Why do they think there is something sacred in the imagination? Why do they not see the primacy of the objects around them? Why do they not understand the importance of logic? Never having had to accumulate arguments against the existence of a supreme being with any of my immediate family, I suppose I didn't learn how to do it. But that's not good enough anymore. I need tools. I need understanding of why I think the way I do. It is no longer enough to just roll my eyes and change the subject. If I want to interact with people who are not atheists, I am going to have to know what is in my head and bring it out in the open.
But what does the silence mean?
A hallmark of most religions (Sam Harris would say all religions) is intolerance for other belief systems. On what basis can I argue that my intolerance for all religious beliefs is different?
I notice the hostility with which most people regard professed atheists - it's easy to see. I have experienced it since I was too young to remember - since the first time a little girl told me I was going to burn in a fire because I did not go to church. Is it possible I have been scarred by religion, like some of the more vocal atheists? Could this be a psychological reaction to a form of abuse? Is there such a thing as a harmless religious belief?
But I did not respond with confidence to this persecution. The last time I recall comfortably arguing about religion was in high school, with a friend of mine who was a misogynist pastor's son. I was at my explosive best, and he laughed constantly. He had such smug certainty, while I wanted reasons and understanding. Then followed years of pursuit of that understanding - class after class about other religions, Eastern philosophy - any ideas other than those springing from the Christian tradition - I tried it all. I went to church. I prayed on my knees. I surrendered myself to a Higher Power.
After it all, the only thing I found was that I felt helpless and dependent. Do all religious people just feel comfortable being helpless and dependent?
So I did not give up on religion easily, once I had decided to find out the truth. But the truth was that it was just as much make-believe as I had initially accepted it was, in my childhood innocence.
But there remain all the religious people in the world, and their silent partners - the people whose reactions are the most troublesome to me - those who don't profess religion themselves, but who disagree with the premise that some beliefs are more irrational than others. There is a philosophical issue at work here - the product of a long line of anti-reality philosophers - and it has become prevalent to the degree that insulting religion is enough to enrage almost anyone.
Why do they think there is something sacred in the imagination? Why do they not see the primacy of the objects around them? Why do they not understand the importance of logic? Never having had to accumulate arguments against the existence of a supreme being with any of my immediate family, I suppose I didn't learn how to do it. But that's not good enough anymore. I need tools. I need understanding of why I think the way I do. It is no longer enough to just roll my eyes and change the subject. If I want to interact with people who are not atheists, I am going to have to know what is in my head and bring it out in the open.
Arguing with the religious
A friend asked me today why I begrudge people their religion. I told her I didn't begrudge them, that I simply distrusted them, because they believe in imaginary things. She brought out the old argument that believing in the Big Bang is no different.
I never have the right kind of ammunition for these kinds of statements. I want to have it. But at the same time, I feel the inevitable sadness that happens when I find out that there are so very few people in the world I can truly be myself with.
It's like trying to argue with a crazy person; I can't think of it any other way. They set the rules for the argument. I know I am missing something important. What is it?
I never have the right kind of ammunition for these kinds of statements. I want to have it. But at the same time, I feel the inevitable sadness that happens when I find out that there are so very few people in the world I can truly be myself with.
It's like trying to argue with a crazy person; I can't think of it any other way. They set the rules for the argument. I know I am missing something important. What is it?
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Change
A dear friend told me this morning that my frequent metamorphoses drive her up the wall.
I had to stop and think about what it meant - why I metamorphosize. A few people remember me when I was younger; I was brilliant and I had huge potential, but I had the unfortunate habit of partying a lot, being irresponsible, and generally not taking anything I did seriously. So many things came to me so easily that I never had to work at a thing.
My lifelong dream was ambitious, and when it was time to put rubber to road, I fell on my face. I did not have the discipline to do what was needed. I was surrounded by others as brilliant as myself, and they worked hard, while I soaked up the atmosphere at "Berzerkeley" and pondered the meaning of life.
I literally spent almost two decades emotionally flogging myself for my failure to live up to my potential, after I dropped out. I had one dead end job after another that everyone who cared about me was sad to see me struggle through. I used to think that I had let them down, but I started to slowly see that I had disappointed myself. No one else was really affected by my choices, by what I did for a living, by the quality of my interpersonal relationships. Once I abandoned the self-destructive behaviors, I almost successfully blended in with "average" people. But I was constantly bored and unhappy.
I blamed my family for placing such high expectations on me. Mom and her bell chart, showing me how many standard deviations away from the mean I was, on the intelligence scale. I hated her and I felt it was her fault, my father's fault, for raising me to think I was special.
But I am special.
Much of the time, when I am around "average" people, I am in a position to teach them something. I'm around people much quicker and brighter than me in school, every day. This is what I should have been doing all the time. This is something that demands my best. This is something that I can be proud of. Every day I search for better ways to keep myself motivated, to try to overcome the tremendous weight of depression I had about not following through on my "great purpose." I don't stand still most of the time with anything, because I felt encased in concrete before. I was always dissatisfied, and with good reason. I wanted more.
I am going to keep wanting more until I succeed in "breaking my brain." Nothing else will satisfy me.
I am sad to think about how many people in the world will not relate to me, or want to relate to me, because of this. But it is my legacy to myself. I know the way to misery: sitting still. I will be still when I am dead - but not again, before that.
I had to stop and think about what it meant - why I metamorphosize. A few people remember me when I was younger; I was brilliant and I had huge potential, but I had the unfortunate habit of partying a lot, being irresponsible, and generally not taking anything I did seriously. So many things came to me so easily that I never had to work at a thing.
My lifelong dream was ambitious, and when it was time to put rubber to road, I fell on my face. I did not have the discipline to do what was needed. I was surrounded by others as brilliant as myself, and they worked hard, while I soaked up the atmosphere at "Berzerkeley" and pondered the meaning of life.
I literally spent almost two decades emotionally flogging myself for my failure to live up to my potential, after I dropped out. I had one dead end job after another that everyone who cared about me was sad to see me struggle through. I used to think that I had let them down, but I started to slowly see that I had disappointed myself. No one else was really affected by my choices, by what I did for a living, by the quality of my interpersonal relationships. Once I abandoned the self-destructive behaviors, I almost successfully blended in with "average" people. But I was constantly bored and unhappy.
I blamed my family for placing such high expectations on me. Mom and her bell chart, showing me how many standard deviations away from the mean I was, on the intelligence scale. I hated her and I felt it was her fault, my father's fault, for raising me to think I was special.
But I am special.
Much of the time, when I am around "average" people, I am in a position to teach them something. I'm around people much quicker and brighter than me in school, every day. This is what I should have been doing all the time. This is something that demands my best. This is something that I can be proud of. Every day I search for better ways to keep myself motivated, to try to overcome the tremendous weight of depression I had about not following through on my "great purpose." I don't stand still most of the time with anything, because I felt encased in concrete before. I was always dissatisfied, and with good reason. I wanted more.
I am going to keep wanting more until I succeed in "breaking my brain." Nothing else will satisfy me.
I am sad to think about how many people in the world will not relate to me, or want to relate to me, because of this. But it is my legacy to myself. I know the way to misery: sitting still. I will be still when I am dead - but not again, before that.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Prostitution
I saw in the news today that a retirement home - the first of its kind - had opened for former prostitutes in Mexico. It broke my heart to hear that these women had been simply aging on the streets, or living with people who were abusive toward them.
I'm reminded of a documentary about the military prostitutes based at Pearl Harbor. So many soldiers saw these women, but there was so much stigma associated with the whole situation. It seemed clear that the women were critical to the military effort, but also that they were a "dirty little secret."
I also read this morning about the beheadings of two women thought to be prostitutes in Pakistan, and about the campaign against "obscenity" there. This is the kind of situation that can develop where women don't actually have any kind of parity with men as far as power is concerned.
I would never imply that women usually have a kind attitude toward prostitutes. But violence toward them comes from men. I have never understood how, if men think prostitution is so awful, its practitioners are able to stay in business.
There is some kind of giant gulf in the lives men lead and the lives they're willing to confess to openly. Is it because they're afraid of upsetting the women in their lives? If so many men want sex so much, and with so much variety, that they'll pay for it, why does this have to entail shame and violence toward the women who are providing it? It is as if with one voice, a man says, "I need you to do this for me - you're important" and with another, he says, "You are scum for being willing to indulge this base desire of mine."
This double standard has infuriated me for many years. I know it speaks of man's self-hatred, shame at himself, disgust with his desires, fear of losing social standing, fear of losing the companionship of women that care for him. But men are bigger and stronger, and sometimes they have weapons. If they also have the power in a society, then they can apparently give women a way to survive, but at the same time marginalize them and see to it that they live in a state of disgrace.
The concept of not having power in a society is foreign to me, growing up in a comfortable nation where women are generally treated as equals, being raised as a human being with no attention to my gender as such. I know my mother had vestiges of sexism - she tried to encourage me to marry and bear children and never spoke to me much about a career. But my lack of confidence stemming from being female was only an undercurrent, and it clearly hasn't prevented me from trying to pursue a challenging occupation in the long run. And nothing in the world stands in my way. But there are places in the world with such a disparity of expectations of men and women that I cannot comprehend the net effect on a woman's self-image, particularly if she is in sex work. Especially if that is the only work available to her.
I don't like government regulation in general. But legalizing prostitution, even if it then has to get just as regulated as any other line of work is, seems vastly preferable to keeping it illegal. Illegality just adds one more level of misery for the women involved and implies that the world would function better without prostitution at all.
I just don't understand the differences between men and women, I think. Why do there have to be two worlds, one for the ignorant wife at home to believe, and one for the streetwalker to know from daily experience? It is not right that those who understand the truth ought to be made to suffer for it.
I'm reminded of a documentary about the military prostitutes based at Pearl Harbor. So many soldiers saw these women, but there was so much stigma associated with the whole situation. It seemed clear that the women were critical to the military effort, but also that they were a "dirty little secret."
I also read this morning about the beheadings of two women thought to be prostitutes in Pakistan, and about the campaign against "obscenity" there. This is the kind of situation that can develop where women don't actually have any kind of parity with men as far as power is concerned.
I would never imply that women usually have a kind attitude toward prostitutes. But violence toward them comes from men. I have never understood how, if men think prostitution is so awful, its practitioners are able to stay in business.
There is some kind of giant gulf in the lives men lead and the lives they're willing to confess to openly. Is it because they're afraid of upsetting the women in their lives? If so many men want sex so much, and with so much variety, that they'll pay for it, why does this have to entail shame and violence toward the women who are providing it? It is as if with one voice, a man says, "I need you to do this for me - you're important" and with another, he says, "You are scum for being willing to indulge this base desire of mine."
This double standard has infuriated me for many years. I know it speaks of man's self-hatred, shame at himself, disgust with his desires, fear of losing social standing, fear of losing the companionship of women that care for him. But men are bigger and stronger, and sometimes they have weapons. If they also have the power in a society, then they can apparently give women a way to survive, but at the same time marginalize them and see to it that they live in a state of disgrace.
The concept of not having power in a society is foreign to me, growing up in a comfortable nation where women are generally treated as equals, being raised as a human being with no attention to my gender as such. I know my mother had vestiges of sexism - she tried to encourage me to marry and bear children and never spoke to me much about a career. But my lack of confidence stemming from being female was only an undercurrent, and it clearly hasn't prevented me from trying to pursue a challenging occupation in the long run. And nothing in the world stands in my way. But there are places in the world with such a disparity of expectations of men and women that I cannot comprehend the net effect on a woman's self-image, particularly if she is in sex work. Especially if that is the only work available to her.
I don't like government regulation in general. But legalizing prostitution, even if it then has to get just as regulated as any other line of work is, seems vastly preferable to keeping it illegal. Illegality just adds one more level of misery for the women involved and implies that the world would function better without prostitution at all.
I just don't understand the differences between men and women, I think. Why do there have to be two worlds, one for the ignorant wife at home to believe, and one for the streetwalker to know from daily experience? It is not right that those who understand the truth ought to be made to suffer for it.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
"National Coming Out Day"
I watched and heard the festivities on campus today - the spray-painted neon T-shirts, the pink badges, the heartfelt testimonials... I sat close enough to be exposed to the atmosphere, but not close enough to be associated with it.
I'm not sure why I have never made a big deal to other people about being bisexual. I haven't advertised it widely, nor seriously tried to hide it. I see it as something to be careful about exposing, given the social climate, unless one intends to be an activist - and I don't - not about that, anyway.
I have been thinking about this Sam Harris talk at the Atheist Alliance conference in Washington D.C. last month, of which I have an edited transcript. He makes the case that advertising one's atheism is mostly a good way to keep the nonreligious/nonspiritual element of society marginalized, instead sitting back quietly and forcing the religious to defend their viewpoints in logical/evidential terms. He likens it to the battle against racism in the South fifty years ago. The illogic of their position, all by itself, erodes respect for racists, given lots of time and calm argument. The same could happen for the religious - with patience.
I could not help but analogize this idea to these very vocal GLBT advocates. I'm not saying that being gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgendered is some kind of superior moral position or statement of rightness over wrongness. But I think the same marginalization results from advertising sexual preferences different from "the norm." It becomes "them" and "us." You're in, or you're out - but you have to take a position. It buys into the idea that sexual preference is somehow important. It reinforces the position of the adamantly heterosexual that sexual preference is a legitimate characteristic to devote thought to.
What about the perspective that sexual preference is a very gray area? Or the concept that sexual preference ought not to matter fuck to anyone? Why would sexual preference be an issue, except for the fact that the generally religious segment of society has had to make it one? I don't see that an atheist would have cause to say anything beyond, "Hey, it's not for me, but if it floats your boat, more power to you!"
To parade and keep close-knit as a community can be helpful psychologically. But I don't see how it is going to bring sexual preference into the same category as hair or eye color. Sexual preference should be irrelevent.
I think I understand better why I have never wished to align myself too closely with any group whose sole purpose is to draw attention to itself as a minority and to "raise consciousness" about its particular quirks. I'd rather quietly go about my business, confronting statements of hostility toward the GLBTs of the world with calm questions and serious interest in influencing a person's thoughts in a different direction.
It might be said that all this activism has indeed raised consciousness. But I would rather live in a world where I didn't have to be in a subculture to get a date. It would be nice to ask a girl out, and not hear, "I'm not a lesbian," but simply, "Oh, I'm not really into women - can we be friends?"
I'm not sure why I have never made a big deal to other people about being bisexual. I haven't advertised it widely, nor seriously tried to hide it. I see it as something to be careful about exposing, given the social climate, unless one intends to be an activist - and I don't - not about that, anyway.
I have been thinking about this Sam Harris talk at the Atheist Alliance conference in Washington D.C. last month, of which I have an edited transcript. He makes the case that advertising one's atheism is mostly a good way to keep the nonreligious/nonspiritual element of society marginalized, instead sitting back quietly and forcing the religious to defend their viewpoints in logical/evidential terms. He likens it to the battle against racism in the South fifty years ago. The illogic of their position, all by itself, erodes respect for racists, given lots of time and calm argument. The same could happen for the religious - with patience.
I could not help but analogize this idea to these very vocal GLBT advocates. I'm not saying that being gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgendered is some kind of superior moral position or statement of rightness over wrongness. But I think the same marginalization results from advertising sexual preferences different from "the norm." It becomes "them" and "us." You're in, or you're out - but you have to take a position. It buys into the idea that sexual preference is somehow important. It reinforces the position of the adamantly heterosexual that sexual preference is a legitimate characteristic to devote thought to.
What about the perspective that sexual preference is a very gray area? Or the concept that sexual preference ought not to matter fuck to anyone? Why would sexual preference be an issue, except for the fact that the generally religious segment of society has had to make it one? I don't see that an atheist would have cause to say anything beyond, "Hey, it's not for me, but if it floats your boat, more power to you!"
To parade and keep close-knit as a community can be helpful psychologically. But I don't see how it is going to bring sexual preference into the same category as hair or eye color. Sexual preference should be irrelevent.
I think I understand better why I have never wished to align myself too closely with any group whose sole purpose is to draw attention to itself as a minority and to "raise consciousness" about its particular quirks. I'd rather quietly go about my business, confronting statements of hostility toward the GLBTs of the world with calm questions and serious interest in influencing a person's thoughts in a different direction.
It might be said that all this activism has indeed raised consciousness. But I would rather live in a world where I didn't have to be in a subculture to get a date. It would be nice to ask a girl out, and not hear, "I'm not a lesbian," but simply, "Oh, I'm not really into women - can we be friends?"
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Why God, but not Santa Claus?
How can you know that there is no Santa Claus, but not know that there is no God?
Is it because your parents told you after a time that there was no Santa Claus, but they never told you there was no God?
What if your parents were misled, and their parents, and their parents before them - all misled by people who knew better, who wanted power, who wanted to make people more pliable, who wanted to push good feelings on the hopeless for the future business of feeding that addiction?
Why would anyone lie to a child and tell them there was a Santa Claus? Why would you? To have an incentive to offer them? To be able to play on their fears? To have the fulfillment of satisfying their hopes? Isn't that a grand sense of power?
Can you see how the religious would love to have that kind of power over everyone?
Is it because your parents told you after a time that there was no Santa Claus, but they never told you there was no God?
What if your parents were misled, and their parents, and their parents before them - all misled by people who knew better, who wanted power, who wanted to make people more pliable, who wanted to push good feelings on the hopeless for the future business of feeding that addiction?
Why would anyone lie to a child and tell them there was a Santa Claus? Why would you? To have an incentive to offer them? To be able to play on their fears? To have the fulfillment of satisfying their hopes? Isn't that a grand sense of power?
Can you see how the religious would love to have that kind of power over everyone?
Calling
I always had a strange brew of interests. Especially, I was always attuned to "the world's suffering." I had a vision of how people ought to be, how society ought to be, and from an age I do not even recall, I learned it was not so. I have wished to fight it ever since. But only recently have I had a way to make a dent.
It has happened in the form of teaching math. It doesn't sound like saving the world, but to me, it is. It has both personal and cosmic significance. It's personal to me, of course, because it's a matter of facing demons I had for years. But it's also personal in the sense that I'm helping people find confidence, the same confidence I lacked, myself. Why is it cosmic? There is certainly a need of things to help the world. Need of food, medicine, housing. These are obvious, but supplying them has never held interest for me. However - give me a person's mind to expand, a process of logic to instill and enhance, and I feel that I am Wonder Woman.
Add to this the fact that most of the people I help are female - going back to school, frustrated, scared, thinking less of themselves because of their gender, because of only being appreciated for their femaleness and not for their minds. I feel like I'm helping with a huge social issue. It's no wonder my love for my work is obvious and that I teach with passion and intention.
Lately I realize I could not care less about solving mathematical problems for its own sake. I know that if my work does not have an impact on the world around me in a tangible way, I will waste into nothing. My entire purpose in life will go unfulfilled.
In the middle of a graduate program is not the best time to have come to this realization. But it's probably good that I did come to this realization, anyway.
I need to start pursuing my calling, where it leads me. In the absence of much of the type of security I thought life would afford me, I have got to have the one kind that matters more than anything: being true to myself. Knowing I do that will warm my life in ways that nothing else can. Lacking it will empty me of significance and meaning.
Life is half over - thinking optimistically. I have got to leave my mark.
It has happened in the form of teaching math. It doesn't sound like saving the world, but to me, it is. It has both personal and cosmic significance. It's personal to me, of course, because it's a matter of facing demons I had for years. But it's also personal in the sense that I'm helping people find confidence, the same confidence I lacked, myself. Why is it cosmic? There is certainly a need of things to help the world. Need of food, medicine, housing. These are obvious, but supplying them has never held interest for me. However - give me a person's mind to expand, a process of logic to instill and enhance, and I feel that I am Wonder Woman.
Add to this the fact that most of the people I help are female - going back to school, frustrated, scared, thinking less of themselves because of their gender, because of only being appreciated for their femaleness and not for their minds. I feel like I'm helping with a huge social issue. It's no wonder my love for my work is obvious and that I teach with passion and intention.
Lately I realize I could not care less about solving mathematical problems for its own sake. I know that if my work does not have an impact on the world around me in a tangible way, I will waste into nothing. My entire purpose in life will go unfulfilled.
In the middle of a graduate program is not the best time to have come to this realization. But it's probably good that I did come to this realization, anyway.
I need to start pursuing my calling, where it leads me. In the absence of much of the type of security I thought life would afford me, I have got to have the one kind that matters more than anything: being true to myself. Knowing I do that will warm my life in ways that nothing else can. Lacking it will empty me of significance and meaning.
Life is half over - thinking optimistically. I have got to leave my mark.
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