From the Journal of Martin Way
January 15, 1936
Life is hard, but engaging here, alone among so many friends and loved ones. Work is constant and physically exhausting much of the time, but my mind continues to wander even after I can’t move my body.
I try to talk with some of the men I work with at the construction site. They have only thoughts of concrete and flesh. That is fine and natural when you are so close to the earth all the time. My father is full of politics and words for words sake, arguments, ranting and business. In his eyes I have failed to be something worthwhile in the world. What am I? I think and do and live. I talk with my mother and it is all about family and worries. She also wonders why I am not in college since I haven’t failed any classes. I have no answer except, I had no feeling for what I would do after I finished. I could stack numbers and words and build walls of well-reasoned arguments. My instructors were impressed with my abilities, but to what end. I have to find a way to live that is true for me, if that is possible. I have begun to doubt it.
I can always go back to the university next year. I could get several recommendations, especially if I was to commit to a major in law or engineering. I have until March to figure something out. Maybe it will come into focus, a true path for me. I have no idea where that path is, but if I can’t find a way that seems to fit, I will go back and try to get more education and see if that uncovers a clearer way. I have an idea that I must continue to read and write, but also working with my body has its merits. I feel strong and capable in my physical labors, while my mental labors often leave me feeling as if I will always be close but never arriving at anywhere. I must always be searching for what is true, what is fundamental to being human and aware and myself.