Monday, October 24, 2011

Our Stars

You know what I'm really good at? Running over acorns with my car. They're tiny and they're everywhere and I can hear them crunch when I back out as I'm leaving my apartment. I basically do half the squirrels' job for them. Really, I should get a medal. Win one for the humpbacked squirrel who has difficulty eating with no one to break his acorns for him!  

I'm also pretty good at pointing out stars, knowing which planets are up, explaining some astronomy topics. It's kinda my job right now. I was working an observing session at a wedding, sometimes manning the scopes but mostly doing star tours and answering questions. After one rather lengthy session with plenty of good questions and conversation, one of the ladies there suggested that I read Steve Job's commencement speech at Stanford because it was all about finding what you love and making that your job, and, clearly, I had found what I loved. I had heard a similar thing from a couple visiting the planetarium earlier that day, who came by after the show to ask a question and tell me how good they thought I was at giving shows. So, with all that, I guess I have found what I'm meant to have been doing all along. 

Then again, someone wrote in to complain that my show didn't fit his expectations and that neither he nor his grandchildren gained anything from the show. So maybe I'm not as good at this as I thought and maybe I'm not in the right place after all. On the other side of the seesaw, though, you can't make everybody happy all of the time. You just gotta think these things through. 

If you follow me on Twitter, you know that I mostly just retweet other people's stuff, things that I find interesting or things that I think need attention from the masses. In the alternate universe where I'm well-known and important, what I retweet would make a difference, but right now, it's just a collection of articles I'd like to peruse later. Like this one, about dropouts and failures fueling the US economy. Now, I don't intend to start a new business but I do intend to fail. Well, not really intend, I just know that it's inevitable. I like the idea of being comfortable with failure, mostly because I'm not and I want to be. The idea of doing something badly, or just having the odds against you, and learning to pick yourself back up is really appealing to me, which is impressive considering how overdone it is in inspirational montages and the like. 

Because I tend not to fail. My life basically works out for me. And that bothers me, especially when so many other people's lives don't work out for them. I didn't do anything to deserve the good luck and veritable blessings I've gotten over the course of my life. I tend to pick things I can do and then do them well. Setting out on a journey that might end in failure isn't something I've ever done. I want to change that. I mean, I'm certainly not asking for hard times. There's enough of that going around. If you could grow by vicarious pain, we would have the best generation of people and leaders in the history of humankind. But I think it's time that I stopped waiting for my real life to begin and started making it happen. 

I'm just not quite sure how to do that. 

And as far as having found my passion, I went to hear John Green speak last Thursday and seriously considered writing as a profession. Part of the talk was about his new book, The Fault in Our Stars, for which I am beyond excited and which I shamelessly link to on Amazon here, and part of it was about the ideas that are in the book and the struggle that ensues when you look at the world and see how much pain there is, and how much of it gets doled out to the innocent. And I swear, I was hanging on every word, feeling like I was jerked back to reality when my friend said something to me or the high school girls in front of me shouted out something. I didn't leave the talk with questions answered. In fact, I left feeling unsettled, but that might just be because it was John Green speaking. My best friend, when recommending Paper Towns to me, said that you shouldn't read his books if you're already in a funny mood, because they make you think. But I love the way his books make me think and the way he uses stories to talk about bigger things, bigger themes. And there's always hope, and I like that. I want to do that in my life. I want to make something, give something to the world that makes everyone who sees it or hears it or reads it think and hope. 

Have you ever heard an organist say that they're really meant to be an organist because they need to hear the sermon twice? I've heard at least two church musicians say it, so it must be a thing. Well, I think that, for right now, I'm meant to work in a planetarium because every day, I'm reminded of how tiny and insignificant our planet is and might be in the grand scheme of the universe. I need that dose of thoughtful humility so I remember that the simple shower of leaves outside my window wasn't shaken down for me. It's just the way the universe works and the universe is a big place and I am so small. But I can change my corner of the universe, and make it better and that has to count for something. 

So maybe that's my passion. Eh, maybe not. It's a pretty vague passion. 

Maybe I'll just stick to naming our stars. 

No comments:

Post a Comment