A Letter to Reason – #Luqman

Dear friend,
I’ve been meaning to write you for quite some time. I have never quite harmonized either structure or content of what it was I meant to say. But here I am, regardless, doing the inevitable.

Of everything old and new, associate and friend, fleeting conversation and well-intended retort, none has forced me to introspect and re-discover the truer reaches of my deepest, most obscure inclinations as you and yours and I am, as a consequence, indebted to you.  

As always, I come to you today with a problem: a crisis of thought, the long-term utility of embracing one’s passion on the one hand and the gnawing need for financial independence on the other. We have discussed both extensively enough to allow for a nuanced understanding. The only hitch been that the latter seems to perpetually scream and claw, demanding to be respected in the progressive trajectory of self-reliance.

You’d appreciate why what I love must wait for what I need, why that luxury of choice must be overridden by the impetus of necessity, why passions will only blossom where there is a field for them to bloom. I agree that I may not be the happiest at the workplace. That isn’t meant for me. But I will not stay there forever. Of the three passions I hold dearest, the two that I might profit from have been forced so far down the rabbit hole and eluded an unveiling for so long that I might never recover them. The other, the more pressing, has come to stay and I will nurture it till the day I die.

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I’m sure you’re wondering what it is I’m in such a hurry for, why not wait all the while? The reason is simple: things aren’t always as fluid as they seem. And I’ve realized that no matter how long I wrestle these grotesque demons, they will resurface for battle after battle, in a perpetual loop. So I best get on with it while I have the fervour to. Who knows, I might very well grow to love my workspace nearly as much as pulp or the dawning excitement of comprehension…

I do not like working for the firm at home, for home, as you rightly predicted, too languidly comes to office, and I’d rather keep home very far away. It’s happened only on a few occasions but it constitutes only a fragment of the complications on a whole. I reckon you can guess what some of the others are.

Knowing me well, I need not say a lot more than this: I owe you a lot and thank you very much for these last few years. I’ll try my bit to see if a job that pays well enough to get me a few good clothes and allows me pay for yearly rent, away from this place if I can afford it, is up for grabs (I suppose I can chase passion number two and three no matter where I go, number one might have to wait) and I’d love it if you and the fairy godmother could cast a spell or two in this direction…

All the same, I’d love to hear your reply, for even in death, you’ve been the only one with a knack to persuade me.

With love,
Me.