You Do It

I’m surrounded by a bedroom mess I should pick up, but this is what weekends are for.   Being in the eye of the hurricane.  Doing what I want in the face of what I should be doing.  So, take that, dirty laundry!

This is morsel of one of my favorite parts of a book that’s impacted me and to be short and dramatic about it, perhaps the 20th century.

He had always wanted to write music, and he could give no other identity to the thing he sought. If you want to know what it is, he told himself, listen to the first phrases of Tchaikovsky’s First Concerto–or to the last movement of Rachmaninoff’s Second. Men have not found the words for it nor the deed nor the thought, but they have found the music. Let me see that in one single act of man on earth. Let me see it made real. Let me see the answer to the promise of that music. Not servants nor those served; not altars and immolations; but the final, the fulfilled, innocent of pain. Don’t help me or serve me, but let me see it once, because I need it. Don’t work for my happiness, my brothers–show me yours–show me that it is possible–show me your achievement–and the knowledge will give me courage for mine.

– Inside the mind of the boy on the bicycle standing before Howard Roark,

The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand

When you do it, you really do it.  It doesn’t even matter what “it” is.   When you make it possible, it’s evidence of what amazing beings we are.  You make me believe I can do it, too.  And so I will, not against you, not for you, but in response to you.   

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