September 28, 2009
When I woke up this afternoon, my motivation was gone. I couldn’t believe it. His little cap and suitcase were gone. So were his sneakers and mittens. All of them gone. He’d left a note, so at least I knew he hadn’t been kidnapped or something. According to the note, he’d decided to bail out for a while, maybe for good. He wasn’t seeing the kind of results he’d expected, so he was taking a powder. If I wanted, I could drop him an e-mail at his g-mail account, which he planned to maintain. Otherwise, he left no contact information. Apparently, he was planning to disappear into the woodwork and find someone else to fuel with gumption and moxie, someone who might be more likely to succeed in a reasonable amount of time.
What a bummer, to say the least. My motivation and I had been best pals for ages. We’d worked on many projects together. He’d gotten me through some pretty dark times, the li’l bugger, and helped me to keep going when I’d thought I might stop in my tracks. Just thinking about it drove me down in the dumps, now that he’d left. How could I ever get myself to accomplish anything now?
I wondered what had motivated my motivation to abandon me, really? The reason he’d given in the note seemed pretty thin. Had he been cheating me on with someone else? Someone with more raw talent and inspiration? I wouldn’t put it past him. My motivation has always tended to think the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. He was never one to stay satisfied for long.
I guess, in the end, it doesn’t matter why he left or where he went. What counts is what happens from here. Am I just going to sit around and mope, drawing pictures of my lost motivation on the blank leaves of his favorite inspirational books? Am I going to turn up my stubbornness full blast and say I could care less about my motivation, I don’t need him anymore, pursuit-of-pleasure and fear-of-suffering will get me through my daily grind just fine?
Or will I grow a new motivation by some miracle, like a bright green shoot on the floor of a rain forest, starting unnoticeably small and rising up to become huger by far than the predecessor it replaces? Will this new motivation enable me to surpass all the meager successes I attained while working with my original, puny motivation?
Meh. Whatever.
©2009 Robert T. Jeschonek
