I HAVE studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me --
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in one's life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire --
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.
-- Edgar Lee Masters, George Gray
I remember the first time I read Masters was at the Rockland Breakwater cafe, in the used book section - this odd collection of beautiful epitaphs. How I wish I'd bought that book now that the bookstore is gone. Later this poem was highlighted for me while reading one of John Eldridge's books.
I've been reminded recently how messy and yes dangerous this road is, this calling, and yet to not walk it, to not take the chances "is the torture of restlessness and vague desire." My friend Adam has some insight on the dangerous way here. While I've demonstrated several times the weakness of needing a respite now and then, I stand here considering ways to make it all the more dangerous.
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