I never fancy being the only one with this strange feeling of being an outcast to my own world. That we crave for things, that we put all we can to attain our dreams, we even risk our health, our reputation, we go lengths to even sacrifice those values that are dear to us for something. But, and curiously though, when we seem to have that one thing for which we strove with nerve and zest to achieve, then the world turns blue on us. We have the ideal woman of our life, but she lacks the one thing we see in other women. We have got the best job, but we feel like it would have been more exciting if there was just a little "something" different to it. We wanted this profession, but when we have it, it looks like we made the wrong choice.... and those that are outside are striving to go in, and those that stay in think it is much better outside...
That is human nature. We always love a thing so much to be fed-up with so soon. The desire for novelty seethes upon our hearts. We think it would be better if it weren't what we are offered.
I have learned this lesson. I have learned it from the streets and from those areas where suffering speaks eloquently into our human flesh. I know I can never have all I dream of. I can never have what I want, at least, not all that I want. But there is one thing I can be sure of, I can transform the little I have into a haven-- like making simple relationships a place of miracle, of real encounter and communion, like letting my work be inspiration, by embracing every dream with gratitude as if, after all the years of striving, it were something I never even merited, by treating the one person I love as unique, irreplaceable and infinitely fragile... this attitude of mind will certainly usher me out of the vague feeling of doubt and emptiness to the deep sense of fulfillment.
One last note before I give this thought away: the problem with us humans is that sometimes we forget we are humans. We tend to act, either as beasts or angels. We are a specie made between the two. Because we are weak and infinitely limited, in all wise... so we are dependent, needing always, relying on others. We are a social set of animals. We are a family. Does the emptiness in me unveil the mystery that I need someone? That I can't stand this all alone?