Several years ago, during graduate school, in the final stage of my academic journey I attempted to write my capstone project in a manner I damn-well pleased. I did just that, until my capstone advisor put me and the literary-madness I wrote in check, by telling me, “save the world on your own damn time, right now your job is to write a graduate capstone and graduate,” and then for failing me. Yes, I failed. Imagine doing well in graduate school, this, your second graduate degree, with years of hard work behind you, and just on the horizon is graduation, only to find yourself impaled on your own sword.
I chose the sword instead of the pen. Those who know me well, know I tend to do so. As a result, I was left shattered with few words to adequately describe the ego-crushing humility that followed such a devastating blow to my character. My advisor had forced me to navigate through myself, and to recover from the dark abyss I created — the likes of which I wasn’t sure people ever recovered from. A year passed before I returned to complete my academic program. When I returned, I carried, close to me, a newfound respect for my advisor’s candor, and the impact his professionalism had on me, which by then had become intoxicating.
Had my advisor been an editor in a newsroom, at a tabloid, or for a major publisher, or just my boss, I would never have gotten through the front door with my pride. The verdict was the same, as well as the life lesson. Out of the heap of ashes that became me, with the upmost respect for my advisor and all the professionals who I deeply admire, professionals who live and die by the narratives of their work, I learned to accept and to appreciate the unspoken mandate all successful creatives carry close to their heart. I learned to continuously improve every aspect of my personal and professional life, despite the setbacks, despite the haughty, ego-centric notions I had of myself, despite having failed, which only he and I will ever really give a damn about.
Of all the influential characteristics these narrative giants carry, a noteworthy sense of purpose and professionalism reigns supreme. I believe it’s this steadfast, purpose-driven professionalism that resonates most with consumers of such work — critical work — investigating, researching, questioning, and most importantly …effectively communicating. My own failure stemmed from a truly oblivious inability to appreciate the fortunate position I was in — to even study at a university, let alone to practice my art so freely, in my own capacity. To have ever reached a position in life that afford me the opportunity to write creatively, let alone to create visual art for expression’s sake is not lost on me, although I was certainly blinded to it then.
Will I ever be in a position to help others through my work, through choice words, through the magic bond created between those who create and those who consume such works? This rests completely on me. Over the years, I’ve worked to turn incoherent, emotive, unstructured thoughts into edifying narratives, even if minimally written and mostly prose-poetically. As I’ve explored the art of writing, I’ve been exposed to creatives across the literary scene whom I’ve come to admire with a reverence they wholly earned. Fast forward, nearly a decade after the incident, and I find myself at another point of inflection.
As a non-fiction writer, I admire the world of facts, of due diligence, of research, of accessible information and the investigations that follow. I consume and share endless amounts of it with fervent enthusiasm. I believe the process of genuine edification fosters personal convictions and the ideals that can serve us as guiding pillars. Having kept abreast of investigators, journalists, researchers, and others, it’s become impossible to ignore the fine work produced by these tireless professionals, all of whom treat every moment of the day as an opportunity to promote justice in the world. This is impossible to ignore. It would be difficult to name all the individuals who learned to navigate around my antics for so many years, but I’m happy to say their patience paid dividends — having grown comfortable with who I’ve become and confident of my capabilities, I now march with a healthy understanding of my competencies, and how to apply them in service of others.
I’ve come to find that my work — my world — focuses on the well-being of the voiceless many the world over, let alone here at home. If I’m to believe (and I do) that we can promote a better sense of justice, equity, and well-being in the world, then it must hold true that some of us are called to serve others with the capacity we have humbly come to know. To characterize the nature of my creative work, my writing, my art, is to see it as an exploratory process undertaken to work through any of my chosen mediums. This is an introspective process, coupled with a strong sense of curiosity. In a rare twist of fate, I’ve had the opportunity to work with, and learn from, a remarkable group of creative individuals over as many years, personally and professionally — all of whom inspire me to embrace the character of a true professional. I’m a late bloomer though, this I readily admit and as such I’ve long struggled with the nature of my creative process, its reach, its impact, and its purpose — my own purpose, defined by this interplay.
All my methods made sense to me once upon a time, but this I’ve learned, was me swimming upstream against true professionals in the world, whose tenacity and purpose endlessly serves others. I don’t want fame, but like most creatives, I aim to reach people, and if possible, to make an impact …even if it’s for a fraction of a second in the cacophony of voices in the information age. The narrative landscape I’m enamored with consists largely of unnamed individuals who keep at their profession, quietly, though diligently, in a way that ascends rote forms of expression, because effective communication carries more value than any given moment of unchecked expression.
To come of age, creatively, I suspect is the results of admiring the greatness in others, practicing and polishing who you aim to be. It is a truly revolutionary experience to find all your time and energy devoted to critical needs the world over, needs more important than any form of personal expression is worth. To be a voice for the voiceless, in a world full of wailing and gnashing of teeth, and the oft disappeared, the abused, and the forgotten is truly purpose driven work. It’s right then, to view this write as my very own, “call to arms,” creatively speaking, with pen in hand. I’m convinced that what exists of me now, is not who I had originally aimed to be, but all the more, it’s who I’ve become by way of reverence and emulation. From Dr. King, whose words I have permanently etched across my chest (creatively maladjusted), to the small victories against human rights violators, war criminals, polluters — through all the endless human suffering — it stands; righteousness always proves victorious in the end.
I’m proud to admit how much I’ve learned from so many quality people who put the welfare of others well before their own. I’ve come to appreciate that such work does not, cannot rest on laurels or accolades from past experiences, but from the motivation that professionals generate within themselves to endure the hard work. Most of us are not opposed to helping others, though it’s seldom taught to do so in the world of creative expression. I believe this can develop into a false sense of entitlement, an air of pompousness the world can do without. If we find we’re the fortunate ones, however, then we come to understand that such odds are too minute to ignore, which serves as an inspiring point of reflection to a weary mind upon. When such thoughts build within us, eventually our mediocrity gives way to passion and conviction, the kind we respect so much in others.
I’m not sure there’s a clear picture of this adaptive, evolutionary process, but there’s certainly a clear difference between working your hardest for your own sake and doing so for the sake of others. I’ve chosen the latter. I’m not implying that one is better than the other, but I am saying that if we come to appreciate as much, then we really do have bold decisions to make of how best to use our good fortunes to help make a better world for others. Mediocrity is the path of least resistance, though, in the realm of collective interests, wherein lip-service is mostly generated during the times of greatest need. We did not create the world we live in, nor the world that holds us accountable, but all the same, it does from time to time. The decisions we make, in light of this awareness, defines the character we present to the world, and so with a great sense of purpose and professionalism I too intend to call attention to the injustices facing our kind and our fragile planet. I’m grateful for the opportunity to serve in this capacity. I suppose, then, that it’s now time to — at best — try to save the world in the time we have left.
-jap.