We love potential.   It is the possibility of something that gives us hope and dreams.   Potential in a new job, potential in a new hobby, a new significant other, a new president, a new town, a new movie, a new book, a new life.   We all love potential, because it allows us to consider things as they would be if things were perfect.

But when we see the result, we are almost always disappointed.    Andy Osenga blogged about this recently in his disappointment with Batman–not that it was bad, just that it wasn’t life-changing.   My wife experienced it in reading a high-profile book release this weekend.   After reading the first three books in the series, all the potential of the last one was incredible–so when she finished, she was, inevitably, disappointed.   It’s because we’re in love with potential that we all struggle with how things end.

The artists that die in their prime only further illustrate this affection for the possible instead of the actual.  What would they have done?  Each of us can have in our head our own version of what would have been perfect–none of which would have really happened.  It’s why we say that someone dying before their time was tragic, while someone dying after a long illness is “the right time.”  It’s as though once you lose your potential in anything, it’s time to bow out gracefully.

I think this begs the question–how do you finish?   Finishing something, by default, means turning the potential of something into something kinetic.  Once it’s kinetic, it’s permanent, it’s real.   I think it’s for this reason that finishing has to be done with integrity above all else.  Making something final is bound to disappoint someone–all you have is knowing that you made a decision that was completely congruent.

So when you see something come to an end, and feel the disappointment–I think the most important thing is to realize that nothing we can do in this life will every satisfy.   Though we would love it to.