The Liminal Rise

Oh, don't stop rising, not for carrer, or reward, not for duty, you are meant to grow.

There was a kid that made his professor dislike him, because the kid was always busy, never had time.

The teacher, with a stupid expression, complained, how he never cleaned his lab space.

He left fitly equipment behind, dirty beakers and such.

What the teacher dis, was ruin an opportunity, to befriend a soon to become a Nobel Prize winner.

To him school was a liminal space, he was just passing through.

These prizes are not as prestigious as they show, and the winners, may already have a reason to speed through.

But non the less, know your liminal spaces.

A school is not a height, it is one of the lowest lows.

Where you will be played to jump hoops, for an impression of education, a slow impression.

Don’t graduate too fast, there is a balanced education to be had.

But a balanced education, makes a Jack of all trades, you are not going to make in time to your highest of heights.

Unless you won ahead of time, or move at your own speed, like a high powered laser instead.

Learning programming, is one way to move fast, skipping over what is unimportant, to get at the center.

And guess what, your prize, the highest of heist, is not a medal, but the refactoring nights.

You’ll quickly forget your Prize ceremony, as the bar is lowered and more jackasses win.

But you won’t forget the warmth, of AOL servers.

You won’t forget the hum, as you code away at the liminal space of a colo facility.

You just get a keyboard, and a floor tile.

And you are as mighty, as it ever gets.

You are not just on fire, you are the fire, and you will chase your god like powers forever.

It is a terrible thing to stay with the job, to call it a career, to feel safe and grow fat.

The sleepless nights are the heights, and the magic is in bugs that cannot exist, but do.

Another time a kid asked Gel-Mann, if perhaps debugging is a kind of science.

How embarrassing, and Murray damned him all to hell fo rit, the man yelled out.

It is not a science, it is a lovely curse, in a science, things happen in a reasonable sequence.

In a computer program, it is more like the quantum world, when somethings just sometimes go back in time.

And you better grab onto your floor tile, you are all the gods, and yours will be the perfect laughter.

I hope such moments will find you as early, as in your teenage days.

Where you will learn not to serve, not for a day, not for a paycheck, not for a prize.

And instead travel and explore, and rise to no end inventing your own way.

If you can just resist the impostors, or triumph and reward early on.

And remember to find balance with nature, because it is not just the mission, it is also you.

Set you back pack by the door, and gently fill it over time.

And once it is full of all you need, take a year off to cross the AT, or PCT, or CDT.

There you will will find your brightest ideas, and the trails will keep you healthy.

You go between the projects, as often as you switch.

And never take too long to plan, which.

The the backpack by the door, for the ultimate liminal passages.

The hum of the servers never leaves you, but neither does the urge to conquer more.

May your rise be gradual, and consistency eventual.

The cake must always be a lie, but your bases must belong to you.

There is never one great height in the end, it is the sum of all the great heights the way.

You’ve been charged with growing all the way up, until you become a great being.