Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Where others see a cage, I see a beautiful frame for the skies.
I'm really tired of the sceptical looks people get when they find out I'm studying law.
Despite the tiring hours, despite the stress and paperwork, despite the occasional burn-outs, despite the mischief done by a few unfortunately high-profile mavericks, why is it so hard to believe that there is true enjoyment and satisfaction to be derived out of law?
There are artists who live their lives dreaming, chaotic, messy, soaring upwards with creative energy one moment and spiralling down the next. It is not difficult to appreciate that there is true beauty in artistic struggle, you say, painful though it may be.
There are activists who live their lives challenging their dreams, recklessly, surrounded by danger, tempting fate from moment to moment not knowing what the next might bring. It is not difficult to appreciate that there is true beauty in free and fearless action, you say, as much pain as it may cause to those dear to them.
There are scientists who live their lives discovering their dreams, painstakingly, single-mindedly, calculating and calibrating the essence of whatever captured their imagination. It is not difficult to appreciate that there is true beauty in devoted exaction, you say, however boring the subject matter may seem.
There are so many who have found their niche in the world, doing what they do can, doing what they want, and doing it well.
But why is it so difficult to accept that, as with everything else, there can be such a niche in law?
Why is it so difficult to accept that I enjoy the intricacies and complexities, the arguments and uncertainties, the maybes and whatifs (but in some people's eyes it somehow becomes 'sly', 'manipulative', 'deceptive')?
Why is it so difficult to accept that there can be great enjoyment in solving others' problems, helping them put their affairs in order, acting and speaking for them when they can't do it themselves (for why else would you need a lawyer)?
If it is what I want to do, what I enjoy doing, then how is it different from -
painting a picture?
choreographing a dance?
protesting on the streets?
writing research papers?
building orphanages?
preaching to non-believers
teaching English?
healing people?
How is it different when I sit down to do the work, and without knowing, the hours fly by without noticing? And how is it different when at the end of the day when I finally put my head to the pillow, I feel like I've accomplished something?
All this, and so much more I want to say to those quizzical eyes.
But opening my mouth, I find that my tongue is tied,
I'm tired of trying to justify -
what I do
what I like
what I want
what I will become.