If I close my eyes, my weary eyes, the world around me falls to quiet. All the pressures and expectations of all the things I need to be seem suddenly insignificant. If I close my eyes, for a moment I transcend the physical, the tangible, the world we touch and feel. I exchange it for the ethereal, the ideal, the incorporeal and surreal. I find the flights of fancy lift me up from under my weak and helpless arms, as though, childlike, I am become so small on a sea of unexplored adventures. A place where no one can say no and everyone says yes. A place where “impossible” is a word we scorn and “risk” is thing we take. A place exists, when I close my eyes, where everyone gets along, and everyone works hand in hand toward the utmost goal, the absolute ideal, the perfect image of perfection. Here we are not bogged down by the petty, the vain, and the self-centered individual. When I close my eyes, I see a collaborative narrative constructed by a collective of creatives who have consecrated their every ounce of individual to something greater than themselves.

And then I open my eyes. I see death. I see pain. I see vanity saturating a world of pomp and petty pride. I see lust for mediocrity. I see satisfaction in the soil of our under-achievements. I see an apathetic ocean of young people, bobbing about like helpless corks in a turbulent sea of indecision. I see a lack-luster generation who can’t stand up. I see the emptiness. I see the hurt. I see the walls they’ve built to hide themselves. I see how thin those walls are, and yet they think they must be safe. I see a mirror. I see myself looking into it. I see all those things in me. I close my eyes. I open my eyes. I close them again.

We must open our eyes. We must come back to the physical, the tangible, the world we touch and feel. For this is where we are. This is where we live. We must not surrender the present on the altar of imagination. We must not slit the throat of righteous ambition and watch our potential drain from our bleating talents. This unholy sacrifice will surely damn us all if we refuse to pick ourselves up, and go out boldly into a world we were created to conquer. Open your eyes, as I open mine. Together we can do great things. We were made to do so. We were not made to be satisfied. We were made to hunger. We were made to thirst. We were made to work, and yearn, and desire. We were made to struggle and fight and win. So today, my friend, open your eyes. Stand up. Go out. Be bold.

~j.d. schofield