A WELCOME NOTE:
Greetings, and a very warm welcome to you. Thank you for taking some time to share in my philosophical foibles. It's my hope that within these entries you might find encouragement, challenge, laughter, counsel and companionship for the journey ahead. Carpe Diem!
Check out www.grantcyster.com for more details. Catch me on Twitter at: GACyster
Such is the nature of the universe that it is governed by certain laws. These laws do not require us to like them or agree with them, but we would do well to take heed of them. A true law can never really be broken. It can perhaps be counter-acted or resisted with a certain amount of pressure or force, but in the end, the law always wins. Why? Because the law expends no energy existing as it is. It can rest in that state infinitely. Any effort to resist it however, is eventually doomed to exhaustion, and to the subsequent consequences of standing in opposition to that law.
As it is with the universe, so it is with the human condition. We, too, are governed by laws. One such law, as I have heard it referred to, is the law of work. Simply put, the law of work states that nothing starved of attention and effort ever improves on its own. Never. Things that are left to neglect, are ultimately left to ruin or to loss. That's the problem with stagnation - things don't actually stop. They rot.
A few days ago, along with hundreds of millions of people around the world, I watched the final day of the London 2012 Paralympic athletics programme. I witnessed individuals with some of the most severe disabilities known, push themselves to the limit of their physical capability.
A typical response to this kind of display is often pity. Sometimes, it's ridicule or insult. As I watched these athletes compete, I couldn't help but think that if any pity was called for, it ought to rest squarely on the shoulders of us 'normal' people spectating, before it could ever rightfully be directed towards any Paralympian.
So, with today being my birthday, it's got me feeling a bit contemplative. You know, the kind of thoughts that deal with dreams and potential, purpose and destiny. I've been sensing a gentle nudge over the last few weeks - a reminder that there's something for me to do, and that it will require some dedication of me to do it. It's a sobering thought that I will never be the person I have the potential to be unless I commit passion and persistence to the endeavours that I believe matter to me.
Good day boys and girls. I hope everyone is fine and dandy this gorgeous Cape Town day, or wherever and whenever it is in the world as you are reading this. I'd like to direct your attention to a freshly published article of mine. If you've ever been curious about trying your hand at a freelance career of some kind, you may find the following read useful:
I was reminded today of my favourite artist, Michelangelo. I'm fascinated by his sculptures in particular. Sketching or painting something with convincing realism is hard enough to do, but carving insanely intricate lines out of a massive, solid chunk of marble just astounds me. It's all the more baffling when you consider he had no power tools, and that he consistently worked through the night with nothing but soft, flickering candlelight to guide him.
(Taken from an article I wrote some time back for CrossRhythms.co.uk. The topic has been on my mind again of late, so here you go. I hope you enjoy it.)
I've seen it said that regret for things done can be tempered by time, but regret for things not done is inconsolable. These words have stuck with me since the moment I read them. They have echoed a sentiment that I have long clung to. Better it is to take risks in life in pursuit of a wild adventure, even at the expense of bruising your head, than to wrestle with the bitterness of regret over chances never taken and paths never followed.
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