It was G.K. Chesterton who changed my thinking about time and age. I used to think as the years added up and your life ebbed farther away from adolescence it meant you were slowly dying, even though no one wanted to admit it. I viewed life like that creepy hour glass on the Days of Our Lives—it just keeps dropping sand until your out. Chesterton, however, wrote about God having an ‘eternal appetite of infancy,’ that is to say, he doesn’t grow old or tired, but lives each day with the same passion and excitement as when the world was first created. Our Heavenly Father, according to Chesterton, is younger than we are.
In his book, Telling the Truth, Frederick Buechner wrote that we don’t just live in the world, but a world lives in us. Our inner world is a combination of our dreams and fears, our memories and longings, our worries and hopes, our passions and regrets, all culminating in an inner place that is as alive to us as the physical world we live in. The truth is, we are all bearing witness to this place of existence and seeking to share that part of us with others.
I was having coffee with a dear friend of mine the other day and we got to talking about art and music and our shared desire to pursue these avenues. My friend told me that often the problem is, we begin any meaningful pursuit in the arts with an end goal in mind. We believe we are supposed to be like him or her, and we measure our success against theirs. Deep down, we know this is completely unfair since we often judge the end of someone’s career with our beginning, but at the same time, it’s unfair because we are not a carbon copy of that person. As my friend said, “You don’t have to be Bob Dylan.”
If you follow me on Twitter, you’ll notice most of my tweets revolve around three distinct things: Quotes from people I like, retweets of semi-appropriate Zach Braff comments, and basketball. That’s pretty much it. And the truth is, in my heart of hearts, I am a baller. Like, for reals though.