Skip to main content

Enduring Spark

Image
By

It is exhilarating to witness the sparkle in the eyes of university applicants as they declare, without hesitation, the career path they intend to pursue. It is a calling — both innocent and profound — but, of course, it does not emerge without the weight of socio-economic pressure, personal and familial expectations, immense stress, and long hours of anxiety.

Yet, the road ahead is long, and many rush through this stage, only to find themselves soon facing academic pressure, financial demands, and, inevitably, the stark reality of the job market. Learning to live with uncertainty is one of adulthood’s greatest challenges, as that initial gleam in the eyes gradually gives way to a furrowed brow.

Through steady strides and inevitable stumbles, a person grows, steps into the world, and builds a family. They begin to share both dreams and debts — but also achievements and passions. They may take up regular exercise — if instilled with the habit early on. Meditation — if persuaded by mounting stress. And amidst moments of anguish, they live a modest life of fleeting happiness.

Were humankind better prepared to serve others — to be of use without the relentless pursuit of titles and material worth — perhaps, just perhaps, the world would offer a fairer future for its youth. For now, however, this remains a fragile ideal, and it is rare to enter adulthood without noticing one’s motivation waver as the days unfold.

Yet, it is possible to preserve that youthful calling well into adulthood. It is a learned cognitive effort, an expression of enthusiasm. Unlike motivation, which is an emotion, enthusiasm is a state of cognitive readiness — something that can be deliberately cultivated.

What truly matters is recognising the need to nurture, step by step, an attitude of genuine interest — towards study, work, and family — the essential pillars of a productive maturity. Problems are an inescapable part of life, but so too are solutions. And as long as one retains curiosity for life itself, there will always be room for both motivation and enthusiasm, in one form or another.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Fallacy of Self‑Sufficiency

By
Some people will tell you — quite loudly, usually — that they are enough. They need no one, thank you very much. Entirely self‑made. A closed circuit. I, too, fancied myself an island at one time. A small, sturdy principality of one. I paid my own bills. Made my own tea. I even spoke aloud to myself in the supermarket queue, which was meant to prove something. But late at night, when all the heroic independence had been done for the day, there it was — a sort of homesickness without a forwarding address. You know the feeling. You’re supposedly sovereign, but you still wish someone would knock. Self‑sufficiency is a word that weighs a bit too much. It sounds like an insurance policy or a piece of camping equipment. It promises freedom, but only the kind you can fit in a box. Like eating an entire birthday cake alone — which, I confess, I’ve done. Because the truth (and it arrives, as truths tend to, when you’ve just burned your toast) is that we are made of others. We are es...
2 comments
Read more

The Progressive Misreading of Silence

By
At 5, I entered rooms like a murmur. I was already listening for something behind the noise — something older than voices, softer than footsteps. “He’s such a well-behaved boy,” they said, smiling with relief. But what they mistook for virtue was only quiet intuition. I was not good. I was attuned. At 11, I had mastered the art of presence without weight. I could sit by the window for hours, watching the wind pass through the trees like thought through the body. “He’s quiet,” they would say — gently, but with a trace of discomfort. They couldn’t name the feeling of someone watching without need. At 17, I was called “mature.” But maturity is not a virtue — it is a scar. I had already seen the shape of endings before others saw beginnings. Friends came to me like tide to stone, hoping to be held. I held them, yes — but not always with words. Sometimes silence is the only honest offering. At 24, my stillness no longer charmed. The world asked for brightness, momentum, performa...
Post a Comment
Read more

On Loyalty and the Quiet Companionship of Pippen

By
I have a cosmopolitan friend who, by the mercy of chance — that discreet and impartial arbiter of destinies — was born in Serbia. Industrious beyond measure, he treats work not merely as obligation but as a quiet philosophy, a means of aligning oneself with the silent order of things. And he is a companion of a rare kind: steadfast, discerning, and, above all, loyal. His name is Pippen. We first crossed paths in the now-vanished days of Google+ — that fleeting agora where, for a moment, the world’s geeks entertained the gentle delusion that they might, in time, inherit the Earth. It was an age of bright aspiration, tinged with naïveté, yet marked by a peculiar fellowship that transcended all borders and conventions. Among Pippen’s many virtues, loyalty stands pre-eminent. Not the clamorous, performative loyalty so fashionable in this restless age, but the quieter, unwavering kind — the loyalty of one who stays. It is revealed not in grand gestures but in small, consistent a...
Post a Comment
Read more