The end of life is not necessarily death. I consider the end of life the point at which one is no longer in touch with his or her passions or no longer on the journey towards fulfilling such passions. What defines a life, in my opinion, is how people discover passion and how they make use of that passion every day. In the words of Ursula K. LeGuin, “It is good to have an end to journey toward; but, it is the journey that matters, in the end.”
With this in mind, I want to travel to Italy for more than a month. Italy truly has a place within my soul, even though I have never been. As new structures are built on old sites, our entire society bases itself upon the discoveries, philosophies, and ethics of the classical world. The flowing, green fields covering Verona, the crumbling Flavian Amphitheatre, situated in contrast to the modern city of Rome, and the museums floating along the waters of Venice all remind both humanity and me of how the past dictates the future. If our future is to be something worthwhile, we should envelop ourselves in the nuances of the present. Italy, for me, holds the future in its ancient marble and frescoes. That a place can be so cultured with the ancient world and yet still move forward every day, using lessons from the past in the present and future, simply leaves me astounded. Italy embodies an ability to balance the past, present, and future all within one culture, something humanity has rarely been able to conquer. I think everyone should have a chance in life to experience this balance.
In finding balance, one must make mistakes along the way. In fact, balance for some might be a tipped scale for others. While we might never be sure of what our absolute passions are, experimentation allows us to eliminate modes of thought or actions which do not follow in our specific line of passion. Realizing that something is wrong for oneself, and learning from such mistakes, helps push one closer to discovering one’s own passions. I want to make mistakes. I want to be wrong. If I am always right, what is the point of living? If I know everything, what drives me to climb a mountain and see a new sight, or to taste a new food? I would rather be in error nine times out of ten and draw closer to my purpose than to have the answer all the time and stay in limbo with no place to move towards and no dream to journey forward to. Humanity would not have discovered the vaccine to polio without eliminating other vaccines that did not work. Edison even commented, "I didn’t fail 1,000 times. The light bulb was an invention with 1,000 steps.” No journey reaches an end if we know the end at the time of commencement.
Through mistakes, we eliminate our dislikes and come to find the things in life we love. Falling in love does not necessarily mean with another person. One can fall in love with a language, a piece of art, an ocean, or even a novel. I want to fall in love. From what I have gathered so far, in my short seventeen years, when in love one acts instinctively, putting passion above all else. I want to understand that feeling of instinct, setting aside all outside influences. To know one’s true self is nearly impossible when surrounded by societal pressures. Love seems to be the only way to eliminate such pressures. To truly understand human nature, we must attempt to see how we act in an environment that creates a blank slate for us. Humanity cannot understand its own origins in the public, open world. Love seems to be the only way to obtain such a blank slate to discover such origins, in many ways allowing the processes of nature or nurture to run their respective courses.
While instinct defines how humans act without societal pressures, one way to project this instinct is in one’s own home. A home defines who one is. If we restrict a home to a house, the type of house one lives in, no matter if he is rich or poor, defines his passions. Even if one lives in a cardboard box, he can make it his own by cutting shapes into it. I want to own my own home and let it define me. Within a home, one can be free from societal pressures. A home is a place for free expression. It is the one place in which conformity is only required if it is to one’s own ideas. The ability to express one’s thoughts and passions freely is not allowed in many aspects of today’s society. Finding a niche for expression along one’s journey through life allows one to test passion. That is what redecorating your home is all about: testing passions, searching for the right fit and taking down wall colors that no longer define who you are or who you have become.
All these things I want to do in life lead me down my journey to finding my passions, embracing every step of the way. However, once I do find my passion, I want it to be my occupation. I have noticed that in today’s society the color that paints one’s life is usually a gray hue. We see people going to work every day in gray suits, sitting at a cardboard-box of a desk against whitewashed walls. Their eyes do not light up when their computer turns on or throughout their daily commute of two hours on the packed train. I do not want to complain of “going to work early” every morning. I want to want to wake up at 6:30 A.M. to design a space for a work of art, write a song, or dig up the bone of a Neanderthal. Unless our occupations fit into that niche of expression, unless our occupations express our hopes and dreams, as employees we will be nothing but a waste of space. The reason humanity embodies such varying cultures and human beings is because nobody fits the same niche. Nobody has the same exact passions. I believe we will find the true meaning behind life when humanity as a whole follows their passions to the bitter end instead of refusing to learn from mistakes. Humans must learn to paint their houses orange, even when the rest of the neighborhood is gray. If not, we will forever remain in a sea of fog, never experiencing the brilliance of a rainbow.
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