It is snowing again.
I am sitting in front of the window writing, as I have been all morning. At the moment, I am reflecting on the fact that it is often very difficult to become the person one wishes to be. Or perhaps it is just difficult how long it takes to become the person one wishes to be.
Around my room, I have pictures of and quotes from some of the people I most aspire to be like (or whose certain philosophies I try to adopt) : Amy Carmichael, Audrey Hepburn, Anne Frank, C.S. Lewis, even fictional characters like Jo March. These are examples of figures that inspire me to be the most I can be. But sometimes, such inspirational people as them leave one feeling very … incomplete. Deficient. As though you’re reaching for something you’ll never attain.
Why? I don’t really know.
Perhaps because the things that are really worth aspiring to are qualities the world disregards.
Perhaps it’s because when you’re my age, it seems like everyone else is more complete in some way, and you can’t keep up.
Perhaps it’s because most people don’t aspire to much, and aspiring to great things means you have a lot more work to do than other people.
Perhaps it’s because we aren’t perfect, and we’ll never be, and this is not our home.
Or perhaps it’s all of the above.
It takes time.
Please leave a note and tell me who you aspire to be.