The Visceral Motivation: A Story of Confidence

“I must do work, for work is essential, a rhythm so everlastingly beautiful. Power is essential. Energy will becometh. Think. The world is without. Without the world. Capture it in all its glory.”

For that is the true meaning behind the innate human struggle of confidence, the never-ending sod-ridden quest for some force of satisfaction believed to be so within reach, so attainable. The dream establishes a facet of imagination, a oasis of false hope, if you will, in that we are all full of potential, full to the brim with oozing capacity, ready to shine with explosive music. How we have come towards such a ponderous reckoning is perhaps a question for the human psyche, the human soul. Though we must acknowledge its existence, its hidden powers within.

Countless times I have told myself the true brilliance of an individual lies within their diligence, their prose, their formality. Perhaps my tenacity to such a presumptuous thought shaded the true tenacity of the force itself. I now realize the true reason, perhaps even a moral understanding, of the complex realm of the specific motivations of my playthings. I have no uncovered the foundational basis of such a source of energy. This voluptuous cairn of melting metal, with its brilliant heat and flames spewing about, as if it might one day have a destructive force to engulf itself, is an entity after all, and entity which happens to exist.

Such an existence must be treated with care. Why must I dissect the anatomy of this source with such detail that it ceases to be itself? Perhaps an analysis of its holy, worldly view may be justified. Though I contradict. If such abstract entities are worth the time exploring and pondering, why must one focus on its importance rather than utilize such a power to unleash the current preoccupations, complete the current, foreboding tasks? Perhaps my introspective nature has failed me, for it progressed far too beyond the line of true sense and morality. Though another question regarding my current preoccupations is raised: why must I divulge away from such tasks with accordance to due diligence and lazily, sloppily, with utmost lassitude, roam about in a free, philosophical realm?

I have never considered the meaning of due diligence, for it is a concept every good student follows without question. Though the abiding to such strict dogma is an accomplishment for the few, so I would assume. The absolute inner energy which fuels such due diligence must originate from that which I theorized and failed to properly describe earlier. If such an energy exists, it its pure existence ample to power the house of diligence? Or might it fail, for it has been pondered upon too great a deal. I may ask myself that question may times a day, thinking all too long about the grand purpose in the grand scheme of things rather than completing a Chemistry assignment, which I subconsciously deem, if you will, useless and boring to the extreme amount. I may argue that such actions inspire true creativity and scientific genius, though without due diligence nothing will ever arise. Due diligence is a power from within, but it is also one which is sourced from the masses.

Though comparison we are exposed to alternative bodies of thought, other human beings. We are inspired daily by their actions, their thoughts, and their due diligence or lack thereof. The thought which preoccupies me the most is their own source of energy from within. How might one keep ablaze the already respectable but much too weak flame for the years and decades to come? Perhaps death does have a sweet omen after all, the finality of time itself and its continuous nature proves to all humanity we are mere passengers in a grand vehicular object, launching rapidly towards an immovable wall, having no force to stop us, but the only force we might ever encounter, time itself. Though such a divergence of subject is not encouraged, I would like to point out the brilliance of time. It enables us to perform so much, and its efficiency by some other bodies of diligent thought is admirable, to the point at which I am in absolute awe of their will, their energy from within.

How might I obtain such an energy? Perhaps too narcissus question to ask for an answer, but such a desire is of use and practicality. The energy from within is so volatile any observance of it changes its state with similar properties to that described by the world of quantum mechanics. If such an energy is not analyzed as I might have hoped for it to be, how might it be properly utilized, in such a way not only the achievements are satisfied but also the more important, the more spiritual, the science of happiness. How might joy in life be derived from such an unstable source of energy? Is such an energy worth the time I invest in its attendance, only to theorize in its usage and proper care? Though such questions arise from a more serious issue: without such understanding of this energy I am not understanding myself; I am divorced from my true intentions, my ambitions, and the most fundamental, my reasons.

Perhaps I strive for the betterment of my externalized face towards society. When one asks, “What job do you have?”, I can easily respond to them, “I’m a pediatric surgeon at Sunnybrook Hospital.” But how could I be entrusted to tend for the lives of delicately pure children when such calculus confounds me, when such equations manifest into a hard bore, and when the proper wording of an Economics question could not be interpreted? Of what need will I be to a hospital if such elementary struggles exist? Every minute mistake I make such as not carrying a negative sign, every decision I make such as substituting “-1” for a limit that approaches negative infinity, or every thought of lost hope, may translate into utter disaster for a laughable career in medicine. Perhaps my face is too thin for others to shoot bullets at, and my lamentations are the direct result of a pitiful endeavour to superficial success but constant turmoil from within.



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