I looked at jobs in New York last night.
I have this dream, that I will teach in the innercitysomewhere, where I will save lives and make friends based simply on the love of language. The words that you and I hold common. Bring together the young and old, the traditional and the avant garde, make song and music that ring until the lights go down, which they never do in NYC. That I will be the one that someone calls in the middle of the night when they're in trouble. Because they trust me. That I will make difference. A real difference. The kind that can been seen and touched and felt in the eyes and faces of the lives I teach.
But even as I entertain this fantasy, make plans I know I will never act on and if I do will come dangerously close to pursuing, I know that I will not live that life, and not do those things. Not because I am incapabale. But because, as of right now those are my plans. They are the things that I want to do. And I don't have any single person or thing to take into account or hold me accountable otherwise. Because I am choosing not to believe.
Not to believe that I have a greater purpose than what even I can think of. Not to believe that there are people and programs elsewhere that will need me, New York can handle itself. Not to believe in my own strenght, that I will need five times over if I choose to stay and do whatever it is that I know already, before even knowing what it is, that Idon't want to do.
Sometimes it's the unbelief that gets us there, rather than the belief. If we believe too much in something, if we know too much and take too much of it for granted, we might not do it. We might choose our own way.