Undergraduate / Metamorphosis, I am a human - an Undergraduate Admissions for Texas State [4]

Topic B - Choose an issue of importance to you-the issue could be personal, school related, local, political, or international in scope-and write an essay in which you explain the significance of that issue to yourself, your family, your community, or your generation.

I think I need to shorten this essay up. (the application said 120 lines of 80 lines of text...why couldn't they just give a word limit lol) Any and all feedback is appreciated.

Metamorphosis

I supposed I was human. One individual immersed within a world of individuals, reshaped and redefined by the mold of culture. Was I created? Was I designated to some purpose unique to my perspective yet beyond the boundaries of my knowledge? Or, was I just another systematic assortment of genetic information gifted by time and chance the opportunity to define existence as I saw fit - a creator, not a creation. I could create my own bubble, an invisible embryonic sac, comfortably suspending me in the reality of my desire. In either case, it seemed that I had to choose, and I could not choose lightly. The ramifications of this choice were too far reaching, extending beyond myself and diffusing into the lives of everyone I would ever meet or know, shaping the way I would live, the way I would love, the way I would see, and the way I would die. I chose to believe in a Creator.

Choosing to believe in a Creator was the easy part. I was born into a religious family where my conclusion was not only expected, but celebrated. I was now free to ascend into the lofty branches of our family tree. Branches painstakingly ornamented with the self-sacrificing achievements of ancestors past and present, generation after generation of noble servants championing the flag of a higher calling unto the despondent hearts of mankind the world over. There was only one problem. I was a rebel. Going with the flow was never my forte and believing in something simply because it was popular tradition felt to me an inconvenience. If I was to continue in the surrender of my freedom to doctrine, I had to know with absolute surety that the God of this doctrine was "It"; the It, the nucleus of joy, the essence of life, that infinitesimally small piece of the heart that so many people seemed to be searching for. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that I no longer held my past convictions. It was time to shed the cocoon, feel the wind of change on my skin, and allow the wings of my youth to carry me into the realm of Truth. Finding the Truth would be the hard part. The most reasonable way to go about the search for the Source seemed to be the scientific method. My hypothesis was simple. If the Grand Architect could be found in any of the myriad belief systems around the globe, I would use the process of elimination to find Him. If I could not, I hoped that the sincerity of my search would prompt receptivity from my Creator, and that He, or She for that matter, would find me. At the age of fourteen, the Santa Maria set sail for unknown territory - the Occult.

This foreign landscape offered certain things to me which my former lifestyle could not. Chief among these was power. I have always been of an obnoxiously small stature and perhaps that was the underlying reason for my thirst for power beyond the capabilities of the mundane. I wanted to rise beyond the human, to transcend the visible world and with my own consciousness penetrate the veil which separates the physical from the spiritual. I thought that surely, within the vastly diverse paths of occult science I could find the one which would illumine the way to God. After all, could it be happenstance that some form of sorcery or mysticism could be found in every culture the world had ever known? It was not impossible, but unlikely. There must be something fueling the fire and I was determined to find out what for myself. It was time for me to hit the books. School could wait, relationships could wait, everything could and would wait for me to find the answer, the only answer that mattered, "Where was God?" After thousands of hours of practice, hundreds of written works, at least a dozen ideologies, several mentors, and about four years later I still had not found an answer, although I felt I had come closer. Private study and innumerable debates with those peers who were likewise immersed in the grand inquiry had led me to what I believed to be some of the quintessential truths of existence. Armed with the wisdom of a few years experience I pressed forward. However, I felt that the supply of gold within this particular vein had been exhausted. I needed to find something less akin to the realm of popular fantasy, with enough scope to encompass all the truths that I had grievously sacrificed to gain. Lamentably, I had no idea where to look next.

It was then and there, stranded on the peak of ignorance that I allied with the age old enemy of progress of any kind, Hedonism. Parties, concerts, and all sorts of foolishness came and went as the days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and the months into a year before anything changed. During that time, martial arts were my sole area of study. Self-teaching from books and internet videos had been my hobby for years, and with a little sacrifice I was able to enter a school. I had very nearly become two separate people. One "me" was a pleasure seeker who cared for little more than music, people, and a good time. The other "me" was a serious student of my own body, still searching for that point where I would find transcendence and discern the face of the Creator. Most Far-Eastern martial arts, when practiced in a traditional way, draw from the religion that most influenced the philosophy of the style. This was the case for all the arts which I studied and it was not long before I was searching their origins for traces of the truth. Like before, I studied and practiced the beliefs of several more religions. In many cases, the dissimilarity of expression created by the cultural differences of Eastern living forced me to research the history and culture of the nations from which these systems originated, so that I might better understand the motivation behind the belief. At some point my studies led me to an ancient and widespread faith which was the all-encompassing force I had been looking for.

Truth be told, I had yet to completely abandon the hollow pleasures of the night life, but it was around this time that all the wallowing in hollow recreation managed to turn my social life into a migraine-fueling mess, which was likely what prompted me to get serious and begin preparing for monk-hood. I severed ties with many of my long time friends, put distance between those remaining, and gave myself over completely to the pursuit of enlightenment. Day in and day out I followed a strict training regimen designed to prepare aspiring priests for the unusual and demanding lifestyle that lay ahead. Exactly when, I could not say, but I believe I started to use my training as a way of escape from a reality spiraling out of control. For the first time in ages I genuinely believed I had found the path leading to God. The only problem was that I felt an incredible lack of fulfillment or joy.

Preoccupied by a single leaf, I could not see the tree, astounded by the tree, the forest escaped my notice, and just when I thought I understood the world I would be forced to see. At the height of my training last December I endured six of the most confusing and trying days of my life. Please believe me when I say it would take another essay just to talk about them. At the end of the week, I again found myself at a place where the comfort of my spiritual reality was on the line. Eight years had brought me right back to where I started. Quite suddenly, I was torn between the verity of the faith I had dedicated the last few years of my life to, and the familiar doctrine of my forefathers, but somehow, something was different. This was not the dead dogma I remembered. Nothing about it had changed, yet it felt alive and new to me now. The restless reasoning of my soul endured for another month, and in the end I was changed. I had not realized that my chrysalis had only just formed those eight years back - it was then that the true change had begun. Now I stood fresh, whole, and fully metamorphosed ready to soar enraptured by the joy of living. My Creator had found me.

I am and always have been human. A creation fearfully and wonderfully made, destined to quest for the meaning of existence and delight in the fruit of my search. Just who is the Creator? I bet you would like to know, but this is a journey everyone must make on their own. Each must make it in a way unique to their point of view. What matters is that my metamorphosis is complete - once a young boy certain of nothing save for his own ability to question, now a young man emboldened by the hunt and ready to stand firm against the throes of life. The choice has engulfed my being and extended unseen to touch the lives of those around me. At long last I am free to die, free to see, free to love, and free to live.