What is life all about? What is its meaning? Why do I have to be a part of this world? Each and every one of us is determined to discover the answer to the question of our purpose and find the key to happiness. Being young, you’re constantly bombarded by a compulsion to recognise your identity, and throughout the formative stages – school, university, part-time work – you are hell-bent on establishing your position in this changeable experience. The stage I’m currently in, higher education, is definitely a step up from the homework assignments and blackboard-to-brain methodology of schooling, which seems like pure tedium once you’ve cut the curriculum umbilical and been born out of the educative womb that shielded you from the harsh environment outside.
I am in the course of my educational labour, combining abilities and knowledge for the aim of achieving my purpose in society and, although this may sound like I’m recycling an old platitude, my dreams. Though, it may appear clouded and diluted like a powder when dropped into water, the purpose I seek is slowly taking shape, germinating from a tentative seed, rising from the soil of the subconscious to stand as an admirable tree, a entity of worth and influence in the crowded forest of fellow dreamers. Nevertheless, a tree that rises high above the soil and matures in rings around its original stem, can find no station in life unless it sources its energy to grow from reliable roots.
For me and many others content in the self, these symbolic roots are my family. The family itself is not complete solely as a traditional bloodline; I never forget to attribute the value of my friendships to their joining to my family roots. Roots at my foundation as an individual have benefited from the support of friends just as much as they have from family, and my strength of character is a testament to the energy these roots provide. Since progressing from a first year student into my second year, I have been at war with perceptions of my progress, indecisively trading one evanescent dream for another, inadvertently eroding my self-esteem and courage to act on instinct.
Life has turned a page and opened on a new, unruly chapter that isn’t written coherently, with sentences ending in cliff-hangers that dangle off the edges of the pages. An abundance of ideas that I hope may lead me down a prosperous path only pan out to reveal fool’s gold, leaving the real reward of an impervious purpose and sky blue direction estranged on the horizon. What I aspire to espouse is more lost than I am in the arena of my options. But, in spite of my anxieties and inner conflict, the presence of a familiar sentiment at the core of my spirit maintains my momentum and reminds me there is no height I can fall from that my roots won’t ensure I recover from. From the brief correspondence between my parents and I, to the occasional visits with the closest of friends from home, my family roots are my pride and joy, and no force foreign to my roots will ever tear those roots from my earth.