Fire in my belly

On my first day at university I was told that to be a journalist, I needed fire in my belly, I needed something that gets me going, an axe to grind (I could keep going with the metaphors).  I never really knew what this meant, or where this fire would come from. It had me question if I was going in to the right profession.

Until now.

On Sunday April 23rd, I was on a flight back from Adelaide to Brisbane after a phenomenal week words can’t really describe. I was sat in the window seat.  I looked out of the tiny plane window, 30,000 ft or so above the ground. The view was spectacular. Dusk was drawing in and the clouds were orange and pink.

I felt so humbled, as I realised how unbelievably fortunate I am to have the life I do. I have a home, a family, an education, a dog… and everything else. These are things I often take for granted, and forget how privileged I truly am- others are a lot less fortunate.  At this point, I decided I was no longer going to live my life solely in the pursuit of ‘me’ and that I want to do something positive, simply because I have the ability to do so and have absolutely no reason not to.

I finally have the fire in my belly- the feeling that I can help or do something good for this world.

For me, that’s what journalism is about.

View from the plane
I know this isn’t a great quality picture by any means, but it reminds me of the moment I realised who I want to be.  23/04/ 17

 

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