Yesterday a friend told me that I am an elitist; that I drop ideas and abandon old friends as I move on in my life.
I said, no, at first, thinking he meant I was snotty and arrogant, and I feel that I am neither to any particular degree.
But he is correct. Unless there is some pedagogical reason, some rethinkings, some…something seeming new…
I have had already many conversations, been involved in the myriad plots of novels and of life; I don’t want to rehash them forever.
I am not in love with my own history, nor totally entranced with the words I wrote yesterday.
I want to grapple with new challenges. I want to grasp at life’s chances, each and every day…with very little rest and diversion.
I don’t deny that anyone and everyone else can move along with me.
Most don’t want to, for many reasons: they are not ready to move on, or are afraid of…an uncertain or unclear future, not knowing what there could be; or they are already satisfied; or…
I would rethink with those who want to know, and converse with those who want still to engage in life’s struggles.
But I need to feel that I am serious, to live life seriously; prepared to engage in discussion and argument, and move…on…forward, with a sense of directedness, always demanding.
I try to be the observer of life’s simplicities and complications, and wonder which is which.
I want to think large, globally, to see the patterns quickly, to deepen compassion and understanding without abandoning humanity: the world’s or my own.
My skills, always limited, require honing and practice and care, lest others dissuade my purpose.
Elitist, I am, mostly about my own history. Yes, it is all me, but how to choose which memories to rethink, which to hold in abeyance. How is forward, next, expansive?
Not loving my own youth, it is how I arrived, the path which chose me.
The path of elitism – now some form of code word – travels the edge of the abyss between being worshipped and being understood. For me, it – my elitism – is either wanting to be understood…or the abyss.
What do the others want, that they decide who I am?