Mt. Everest
This day and the last have been entirely consumed in school work, as will tomorrow, and I have ended each day feeling entirely exhausted from the labours. Yet the exhaustion is not negative; rather, it is accompanied by a sense of satisfaction that I am making progress in my slow and diligent ascent upon the mountain of my future. This is no hyperbole: often, the work is daunting to the point where it seems soul-crushing. There are letters to finish, statements to complete, more schools to research, professors to e-mail, applications to fill out, and tests to study for. And whilst all this is taking place, classes are ongoing–my senior seminar and an elective in my area of focus. Sometimes, I wonder how I can do it. I begin to despair. It takes a great effort of will to recall that worrying about how I can do it will not avail me; instead, I have only to try as best I can.
I have been fortunate enough to have been given many second chances in life–in a state of existence in which too many people do not even receive first chances. What I threw away in high school was given back to me by Fr. John West when he got me into Sacred Heart Major Seminary, from which I transferred to Oakland to ultimately pursue the career as a professor of English which I had spent my entire childhood and adolescence dreaming of; which everyone felt I should attempt. And when I threw it away again, along with the love of a woman for whom I was made as surely as she was made for me, I was given another second chance by virtue of meeting someone else who put me back onto the paths I needed to walk: a focus on literature and English, and a personal crucible which washed away self-centrism to replace it with self-sacrifice.
Meriwether Lewis
These are comforting thoughts. For when I consider that with a firm and steady hand I have ever been guided back to the correct path, I know that, as long as my heart remains true to those purposes, I can trust in that almighty providence which has ordered my affairs with seemingly infinite mercy and patience. This does not mean that I can do as I like without fear of consequences, but rather that I can trust in the future so long as I continue to work diligently towards those ends. When I have stepped aside, I have not been prevented falling into ruin; but when I have sought to return to the paths laid down for me, I have been shown back to them through ineffable ways attributable only to the mercy of God.
In reading, I came across an excerpt from the journals of Meriwether Lewis in which, on his thirty-first birthday, he expressed regret at the amount of time he had spent not engaged in either furthering the happiness of humanity or advancing human knowledge. I hope that in the former case I will succeed through my relationship with Thea, and in the latter case I will succeed through my career as a professor of English. Yet, for me, the reason to climb is not the progress or happiness of humanity, but because it is woven into the fibre of my being. Because if I did not, I would regret it forever; because if I cast it aside or turned from it, I would be overcome with remorse and would spend the rest of my life trying to undo it. Like George Mallory, I climb because it’s there. Hopefully, I will meet with the success which eluded Mallory and deserted Lewis. But, if not, at least I will live without the reproaches of my conscience.
