aaron gayah

just a personal photo blog and journal.

The Calling

Time has this way of going by whether or not you’re paying attention to it. And now she’s lying in bed, wide awake into the wee hours of the morning, her soul restless, her passion spent, just thinking about that. But she couldn't pinpoint how or when her life descended into this - an existence medicore by her own standards. And that would not do because it couldn't. There's more to life than this, more to her life than this. And she needed to figure it out.

She’s not ungrateful, no, not by a long shot because she’s been fortunate all the while and she knew that. A good family life, a comfy home, a well-respected job, an education, a few friends, a car, and the peace of mind and space to think. And conditions like that tend to nurture ideas, yearnings, and dreams, and that’s what happened. She learned a lot through her years actively spent introspecting, researching, observing, and yet she only just realized that she outgrew who she was. But she was still a long way off from becoming the person she needed to be.

She pondered carefully, for a while, because for her, her calling simply wasn't something distinct or clear. Sometimes it felt like she was listening to a dead silence and that could be tiring, boring, and even unnerving. Other times it felt like she was trying to listen to the exact song she needed to hear at that instant, but it was playing ever-so softly, the lyrics and melody being drowned out by the noise of her unsettled mind. And now this sense of urgency to change was becoming increasingly unbearable with her being conscious of the precious seconds slipping past.

Suddenly, she couldn't wait anymore - not for inspiration, not for herself to snap out of it. She gave herself three weeks to create something, anything meaningful and that would be the catalyst she needed to redirect her life. She threw herself into the project, going at it day and night, and into the wee hours of the morning. It didn't matter that no one else understood - this was not for them. It didn't matter that she hadn't done anything like this before - that was exactly the point. And it didn't matter that she had no experience - she was smart enough to figure it out for the most part. At the end of it all she had a draft - a rough draft, something pretty to look at and interesting to read, one that presented the idea clearly. But she wasn't proud of it. It had holes. It was incomplete and she knew that, but it mattered not. These three weeks were just the beginning of something big she decided, and she would deliberately embrace this new routine, for this would be her passion, her calling, at least for now. And it was up to her and her alone, to answer it.