“What do you like to do?”
Being asked this was painful. I think that’d be the best way to put it. I was dumbfounded, 1) because my normal rattling of “reading, listening to music, drawing, etc.” didn’t roll of my tongue (and it didn’t seem to want to), and 2) I really had no idea.
That was it: I had no flippin’ clue.
He was asking as a general question that one asks on an introductory meal, but I processed it completely differently than that. For one, he had been talking about things he loves to do and things he does, and things he has done, and I realized how incredibly bland my life was. I also realized I don’t do anything. At all. I go to class, I work on homework, I doodle and read at times and always listen to music, I work, I eat, I exercise, I sleep. That’s pretty much my life. Except for the constant brain activity and attempt at understanding the chaos around me, I’m not doing anything here. Essentially, I have no passion. I have nothing to follow, nothing to let lead me on to the greatest depths of the unknown. Nothing. Zilch. And I know that that passion is what he was asking about, whether he meant to inquire about it or not. It made me feel like a child, honestly, but not in a bad way. It just made me realize that I still have a long ways to go.
I found myself incredibly embarrassed. I know first impressions last a lifetime (and it’s true, whether you want to believe it or not), and I feel like I completely flunked this one. But, more importantly, I was very disappointed in myself. I like to think I’m experienced and know where I’m going, and know who I am, but honestly, I know nothing. I’m not even legal to drink yet, and I’m still in college. This guy in front of me is doing and has already done more than me, and he’s not talking about what he knows and how the world is: he’s talking about how beautiful the world is, and how there’s so much to experience and see, and what he’s doing to get there and see those things.
This is probably the most humbling experience I’ve had in a while.
We all need these, but I probably need them the most because I do tend to preach. Being reminded of how small I am is good for me, I think. It’s also a loud reminder that I need to do something productive with myself, and to actually live. People exist, but very few live.
(Isn’t that true?)
I need to be one of those. I desperately want to be.
I need to get up, and shake the dirt and dust from my achy, cold body. I need to crack the curtains and open the windows, and see what’s around me. I need to dig out my hiking boots and throw on my coat, grab my camera, and go embrace the world that’s around me, and stop for nothing, and never come back until I have seen everything. Then, and only then, can I rest again in my worn out, practical home. Then, I can preach and tell stories to those that join me at my hearth. And only then.
(^^there I go preaching again…)