I know that this may not be the exact place for this post, but in my limited forum experience (and my extensive experience with many of you and our kind), I think that we here are most given to the content. I know we all have things to do, finals to cram for, etc. so I'll boil it down real quick. Thanks Clayton Williams.
If you have the time/interest, I included the much-extended version of what I had to put in words, even if just to understand for myself. I hope they may not be an entire waste of your time. Ignore this post at your discretion.
I would just like to say, in my typically humble and unsolicted way, that Clayton Williams said a whole lot at Muster and I appeciate the hell out of it. I hope everyone does. I have to admit that my soft spot for the speech comes in large part from a marked bias to his style and vision. But there was one thing in particular that I think speaks diretly to all of us.
There is an unquestionably long list of Aggies (and people in general) who exhibit heroism, dedication, strength, honor, pride, conviction, and so on that reflects the greatness they were graced with and that they acquired from their institutions. Family, school, church, dorm, outfit and Bonfire are among these institutions. To use myself as a guinea-pig, primarily because my experience is one I am certain of, secondarily because some of you are familiar with my style, one that could simultaneously be described as driven, pompous, well-intentioned, selfish, honorable and repulsive. Additionaly, I consider many of you my friends, though you may think quite the opposite.
For a long time now, especially since Bonfire 2004 wrapped up, I have poured myself into my future, one that on many occasions looked uncertain at best. But recently, a maniacal single-mindedness and sense of what I presumed to be purpose appeared to be working. But I lacked vision. As Mr. Williams said, I didn't know where I was going, I think I may be there and I probably won't ever know that for sure. But contrary to his dismissive outlook on his own successes and achievements, Mr. Williams knew as I may now know, exactly where he wanted to be in the abstract: successful, excellent, accomplished.
We may all spend our lives looking for solid ground, unclaimed territory to pioneer. Most everyone will reach a point where they reflect on that objective and wonder if they are really reaching for it or if it is even the right objective. Most of us will feel like we have come short, wasted time and talent (mid-life crisis). This will certainly be the case for anyone without purpose on that inevitable day when we wake up and realize that this ride is going to end.
We may very well realize then that cars, houses, portfolios, retirement accounts and so forth are not objectives, they are in fact simply evidence of accomplishemt that we use to somehow measure the sum worth of our labors. What our true pursuit, we may realize, is and certainly should be is to succeed, to be excellent, to live a life in tribute and appreciation of what we have through grace, fortune and the generosity and character of the institutions that shaped and changed us.
The gist of what was shown to me at Muster is this: we all have been graced with uncommon talents and a common institution. These are not opportunities, resources to use on a whim for things for ourselves. Our good fortune is a responsibility, and it is concurrently the tool to fulfill that responsibility. Soldiers like the ones Mr. Williams so touchingly described volunteer their existence to something more. They willingly fight and sometimes die to achieve victory, success and excellence, in part for themselves but also for their institutions. They protect country, advancing and defending its values. They honor family, fighting like hell to make mom, dad and siblings proud, and safe. They honor school, sending home photos of Aggie flags in a desert or "Gig 'Em" on bombs. They are responsible to themselves, fighting to an end (maybe THE end) to use to its potential every resource they enjoy.
That courage and honor does not however have to be reserved for a soldier. We too may one day be courageous, though finding that strength and determining the objective will certainly be more challenging. We must be responive and responsible to what we are good at. And when we know that, we must pursue it with a passion and fever that is foam and spit and fury. We must be tenacious, resolved and unbending in its pursuit. It is a frightening proposition that you have a reason to be, an objective and destiny that is yours for the taking, a host of talents that may be wasted in apathy, a community of people past, present and future relying on your success. And it takes courage to resolve to be responsible to all of them at any cost and to any end.
Bonfire and Aggieland are two of these responsibilities. They have been given to us as resources. They taught us strength, unity, pride and honor, and we are indebted to them for it. Through everything we do for the rest of our lives we must be keenly aware of that fact, and with the same diligence with which we built Bonfire, and Yelled, and Groded and studied (sometimes) we must be able to say honestly and with certainty that we have returned that favor.
If you have the time/interest, I included the much-extended version of what I had to put in words, even if just to understand for myself. I hope they may not be an entire waste of your time. Ignore this post at your discretion.
I would just like to say, in my typically humble and unsolicted way, that Clayton Williams said a whole lot at Muster and I appeciate the hell out of it. I hope everyone does. I have to admit that my soft spot for the speech comes in large part from a marked bias to his style and vision. But there was one thing in particular that I think speaks diretly to all of us.
There is an unquestionably long list of Aggies (and people in general) who exhibit heroism, dedication, strength, honor, pride, conviction, and so on that reflects the greatness they were graced with and that they acquired from their institutions. Family, school, church, dorm, outfit and Bonfire are among these institutions. To use myself as a guinea-pig, primarily because my experience is one I am certain of, secondarily because some of you are familiar with my style, one that could simultaneously be described as driven, pompous, well-intentioned, selfish, honorable and repulsive. Additionaly, I consider many of you my friends, though you may think quite the opposite.
For a long time now, especially since Bonfire 2004 wrapped up, I have poured myself into my future, one that on many occasions looked uncertain at best. But recently, a maniacal single-mindedness and sense of what I presumed to be purpose appeared to be working. But I lacked vision. As Mr. Williams said, I didn't know where I was going, I think I may be there and I probably won't ever know that for sure. But contrary to his dismissive outlook on his own successes and achievements, Mr. Williams knew as I may now know, exactly where he wanted to be in the abstract: successful, excellent, accomplished.
We may all spend our lives looking for solid ground, unclaimed territory to pioneer. Most everyone will reach a point where they reflect on that objective and wonder if they are really reaching for it or if it is even the right objective. Most of us will feel like we have come short, wasted time and talent (mid-life crisis). This will certainly be the case for anyone without purpose on that inevitable day when we wake up and realize that this ride is going to end.
We may very well realize then that cars, houses, portfolios, retirement accounts and so forth are not objectives, they are in fact simply evidence of accomplishemt that we use to somehow measure the sum worth of our labors. What our true pursuit, we may realize, is and certainly should be is to succeed, to be excellent, to live a life in tribute and appreciation of what we have through grace, fortune and the generosity and character of the institutions that shaped and changed us.
The gist of what was shown to me at Muster is this: we all have been graced with uncommon talents and a common institution. These are not opportunities, resources to use on a whim for things for ourselves. Our good fortune is a responsibility, and it is concurrently the tool to fulfill that responsibility. Soldiers like the ones Mr. Williams so touchingly described volunteer their existence to something more. They willingly fight and sometimes die to achieve victory, success and excellence, in part for themselves but also for their institutions. They protect country, advancing and defending its values. They honor family, fighting like hell to make mom, dad and siblings proud, and safe. They honor school, sending home photos of Aggie flags in a desert or "Gig 'Em" on bombs. They are responsible to themselves, fighting to an end (maybe THE end) to use to its potential every resource they enjoy.
That courage and honor does not however have to be reserved for a soldier. We too may one day be courageous, though finding that strength and determining the objective will certainly be more challenging. We must be responive and responsible to what we are good at. And when we know that, we must pursue it with a passion and fever that is foam and spit and fury. We must be tenacious, resolved and unbending in its pursuit. It is a frightening proposition that you have a reason to be, an objective and destiny that is yours for the taking, a host of talents that may be wasted in apathy, a community of people past, present and future relying on your success. And it takes courage to resolve to be responsible to all of them at any cost and to any end.
Bonfire and Aggieland are two of these responsibilities. They have been given to us as resources. They taught us strength, unity, pride and honor, and we are indebted to them for it. Through everything we do for the rest of our lives we must be keenly aware of that fact, and with the same diligence with which we built Bonfire, and Yelled, and Groded and studied (sometimes) we must be able to say honestly and with certainty that we have returned that favor.
