The Power of Will

Listen to the tapes. You can do this! You need to want it! Fight on! Drive! Passion! Listen to the voices spewing the words. Let them coil around your mind. Feed off the energy. You run a little further. You suck down air and you lift a little higher. You can finish that task, write that essay, submit that proposal, do what you END OF SIDE A.

Listen to the tapes. SIDE B. Continue to hear the secret.

Living in a world fed to you in bitesize chunks of adulation and appreciation is a world that gives you hit after hit. It’s not designed for the long haul. It’s not designed for a life. We move, day after day, through posts and shouts and likes and comments and the world telling us to live in the now. We do. We take a snapshot and we offer ourselves up to the wolves. We never really expect the trolls to emerge from their bridge prisons when we do this. Not important enough. Not big enough. Too normal. Too quiet. No one will bother me. Why even post? I’ll just save it for myself then. END OF SIDE B.

SIDE C can be purchased if you follow this link.

And this is the world that we live in. the stories are short. The days are long and full of right now, this moment, it’s only us, it’s all in the seconds. We all do it. I do it. I get up, I check the internet and I see everyone living their best lives. Does it give me energy? Of course not. Does it feed your hunger? Does it fuel your reserves? When you’re up for the night feed and you see another smile and another sunset and another tan line and another image of a person who never has to work overtime because they live in the moment does it help you heat the milk, adjust the baby, rest in the cushion, live your best life? It’s all a fallacy and we lap it up, like and like, comment after comment.

This is not the anti-internet. This is just thoughts, just jottings, just the seething of an ex-instant gratifier. Am I on social media? Of course. Odds are you are reading this because of it. Do I post? Yes. Do I enjoy the scroll? Yes. Am I hooked? Yes. But do I want to change?

Want isn’t enough. The power of will has dulled. For my part I blame modernity. It isn’t the internet, it isn’t social media, it isn’t the likes and posts. Everything is easy in the world that I live in. I pay my rent. I have a job. I have a family. I have friends who care. When I write, I have people who read. The very act of writing this can be a boast against those who struggle more than I. And yet in my words my sadness weaves like a blanket around a sleeping form. The form is stationary, sedentary, slipping. What is there to aspire to? Be like the rest. Fit in. Make em laugh. Make em cry. Make feel something. Be remembered.

I slip through. There are days when this is too much and I can’t move. There are posts that see my on the edge of the world and looking down into the waves. I’m not unique, I know that. I know that if we all were to hold hands when we felt that way there isn’t a cliff edge long enough for us all. Would we even drown if we fell into the waves together friends? Would we have the room to do anything other than just exist? We sink. We fill the hole. We remain. Human remains.

My curve has dipped and risen. As I type I am far away from the ledge, sitting with ease, my words not as tight as usual as I have more time to let my mind wander. I write because I’ve made it a must do. There are many things we need to make must dos in our days if we want them to happen. I must rise with the alarm. I must work. I must answer the calls designed to better me, rather than make me better. I must exist in that world of earnings. I must. But then, what happens when the days become mine? There are 24 hours in any one day. Every human being has the same number of hours, if not the same amount of responsibilities. I am light on responsibility and heavy on introspection. I stay after hours. I surf. I scroll. I do anything other than move. I think of my physical fitness, the beating of my heart. It is slow, steady, strumming a gentle rhythm in my chest. It takes effort to make it do anything else. That’s true of everyone. Why does it seem so hard? Why does being an instrument of your own betterment seem like a sport of kings?

We surround ourselves with people who care, if we are lucky. It’s the ‘done thing’ to couple up, to live together, to start a life together. For years I’ve resisted the last element. I couple up. I exist in a state of waiting for the other to make their move. I react. I’ve grown so used to reacting that I’ve forgotten altogether what it is to be an individual. Should the other person be blamed? No. the list would be too long. They have one thing in common.

Passion is not exploding fireworks and Hollywood. It’s not hours of sex and drinking to loud music. It’s not crying in the rain because the other person looked at someone else’s backside. Passion is slow. It’s methodical. It’s here with us, day after day, if we can only see it. Feel it. Touch it. Smell it. Passion is the decision to cook rather than take out. It’s the decision to hold rather than fight. It’s the decision to stand rather than sit. It’s the decision to decide. To be passionate is to care about living.

My passion left me for so very long that I don’t remember now what it feels like anymore. I have dipped and risen back up again. To see me now would be see oh isn’t he doing much better, that’s great! And it’s true, I am. In less than seven days I’ve gone from the cliff’s edge to wanting to build my world into a better place. Not just for myself but for those around me. I’m alive.

The Power of Will? I’m not sure that will has a power. I’m not sure it deserves the accolade. It is, it simply is. I didn’t will myself into existence, but I could will myself out of it. Life and death – you get to choose one, not the other. So maybe I’m wrong. Someone else’s will led to my existence. There’s power there.

There are things we can make must dos. I must live. I must do more than exist. I tell myself that. I promise myself that. It isn’t the first time I’ve made the promise and it’s not the first time I’ve had to make a decision away from the alternative. But I never made it a must do before. So this is an experiment.

I must live my life. I want to enjoy it. If must do has all of the power, then what is the power of will?

Maybe this one we can discover together.

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