Finishing

When I think about finishing things I first go back and think about starting them. When does something really begin? At the first thought that pops into your head, or when it begins to substantiate in some material form? It is easy to say that starting something is "easy", and at other times it is easy to say that it is "hard". What is finishing then?

I just finished a book I started two years ago. I was stuck at page 284 until last Sunday. Today as I came to the end at page 700 I felt the joy of finishing. I have done this many times. The next book lined up is Jared Diamond's Guns, Germs, and Steel. I think I started it about six years ago. I have read the first twenty-five pages somewhere between eight and nine times, and I will probably do it again today.

Finishing is achievement. It is the reward for the effort. The end. In reality, it is just another start. To talk of finishing is the recognition that something else must now be started. We don't finish things to just finish things. Instead, we finish things to move on. This often occurs without realizing it, but it should be realized. Finality, is not really final at all, because it is essential to continue to build. If something is really final it is an oppressing reality in which we deny ourselves the lessons learned by the pursuit.

With that bit of enlightening rambling out of the way I will continue on to a more important matter. The finishing of a quart of Mississippi Mud.

I realized last night that I had not had a beer in a while. I went and purchased this little brown jug in hopes of being able to play on the street later if the job front doesn't pick up. The combination of dark and light beer pleased my palate. Upon finishing it I was sad to see there was no more, but I am confident that finishing this was not the end.