Fly high (&) Stay grounded

I disagree. Unless you subscribe to a view of there being alternate universes, one can either only fly high, or you stay grounded.

It’s like a rubber band, or sliding scale. You’re either a relaxed rubber band, or a stretched rubber band. You can be at one point on a sliding scale, but you cannot occupy both ends of the spectrum at the same time. It’s a binary issue. I’m sorry, but I’m being honest here. And it needs to be said.

You can’t have your cake, and eat it too.

Perhaps it’s a function of where I schooled, and the people that I’ve grown up around, and my parents, that I live in constant irony.

“Fly, soar on wings like eagles! If you never soared, no one will know how high you can fly!”

“I’ve never wanted him to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a banker… Those jobs are so hard, so stressful…”

“This is my son! He’s a scholar now… Studied in the UK… He recently just won XXX award…”

“You can publish in Nature, Cell and Science too!”

The list goes on. The voices continue to ring. The confusion continues to perpetuate. The frustration deepens. Then silence. Plunging head into water, in an attempt to stifle the voices. Suffocating. Irony.


I’m lost. And along the way picked up depression. I feel caged. I remember the word I often used in my communications with Pei was “shackled”. I felt that way. But I didn’t know why.

Perhaps now I do. I understand it a little.

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” — Steve Jobs, speech at the Stanford University Commencement, 2005

Right now, I have nothing. My heart and intuition is lost. That voice drowned for far too long. That light obscured by too thick a cloud of dust.

Which is the reason why suicide is attractive. I have nothing to live for. I’m living someone else’s life. And I’m fucking miserable. I live each day, sucking up oxygen and nutrients from the face of the earth, but inside I’m a zombie. Dead. Lifeless.

But innately, there’s a desire to fight. A desire deep down, a quivering in the depths of the massive ocean, that wants to continue living.


If the Lord wants me home, he’ll take me back. But if I’m still to live on this planet, I’ll stay. I just pray that whatever my life was meant for, he’ll show it to me soon. Reignite that spark. Turn up the volume of my own voice. And live a life that’s an honour unto Him that created me.

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