In Medias Res

I am in the middle of things, and it's not my favorite place to be. It's been a while since I've started, and the end is still far away. Without the excitement of beginning, or the accomplishment of finishing, I am subject to any given mood caused by any seemingly unnecessary and unpleasant happenings. Did I really choose this path? Is it really worth so much trouble? So much time and effort? The abstract maxims and analogies have become sterile and empty. I no longer believe these motivational tricks like I used to, and I need something real if I'm going to maintain this project. But what? From where? What would something real look like? Smell like? Taste like?

I think it's beauty. As I strive to make quality as much a part of my life as possible, I am drawn to and maintained by beauty. Beautiful pictures, beautiful cleanliness, beautiful music, beautiful body, beautiful friends, beautiful things. But these are merely the subjective outward manifestations of something deeper, more substantial, and ubiquitous; something real. From my place in the middle of this something, the end is very vague. But the next step is very clear, and it's toward the mind:

What is a beautiful mind?

How can I cultivate a beautiful mind? This thing that is always in my head. This thing that is always watching, judging. This thing that somehow decides how my fickle mood will color my existence. I am tired of this uncontrollable tendency that renders me powerless before the finite and limited. Perhaps my body would survive more revolutions in this arbitrary cycle, but my genius would die. I would rather sacrifice my body for the sake of my genius, genuine happiness, and honest expression if it was required of me. I seek to have company with the real, where I can sit straight and look upon it with kind eyes, unaffected by fatigue. I believe the bridge to this state is greatly concerned with the cultivation of a beautiful mind.