Tag: goals

Winding Down

Two days to go before my one year blog writing anniversary.

Here’s the most important thing I’ve learned this year.

Sayin’ ain’t doin’. I could wax on about why and when and how I learned this but that is a much longer story. It is a story I have already told in this blog in one form or another.

Basically, it means putting your money where your mouth is. It means, in effect, that words aren’t worth much of anything unless they are followed up by meaningful, demonstrated action.

I play freely in the world of words. They are my friends. They are my guides. They have been my saviors. That may sound like hyperbole, but isn’t.

Had I not had words to capture what I was seeing unfold around me and what I was going through and putting those things down on paper, I am not sure what other outlets I might have found.

Well, I actually do know. When I was younger and not writing as much and devoid of self-esteem, I drank like a fish and regularly ran from pillar to post with the childish conviction that the succor I sought was somewhere “out there.”

It wasn’t. I came from a background of madness and learned a lot about madness and acted out madness. Though I didn’t know at the time that that was what it was. Madness is sneaky that way. It looks a lot like other human behaviors if it exists within accepted social parameters.

Didn’t all of us think at one time or another that slamming down a case of beer or a 26 ounce bottle of hooch was prerequisite for having a “good time”?

Didn’t all of us at one time or another really truly believe that we could “save the world” or at least make a significant contribution that would land us in the history books? Okay. Maybe that was only me.

As you skim these blog posts because a title caught your eye, maybe you picked up a perspective you hadn’t thoought about. Or maybe your own thoughts were validated and made you feel less isolated. Or maybe you realized that your life has significance, too, and is worthy of sharing with others.

I have learned that from reading the blog posts of others. Nurse Patty regularly shares anecdotes and frustrations about her profession. Anthony Robert (whom I think is a marketing guru – forgive me if I got that wrong, Tony) regularly shares witty, succinct insights into life.

Climber Margo Talbot tackles and shares a wide range of healing insights on her occasional posts. Always helpful and enlightening. I skim other blogs once I have established a relationship with the author as someone I admire and appreciate.

In all of these words that I produce and others produce, they are a reflection of living and not life itself. Margo can only write about her relationship with ice because she has been out there doing it and is an integral part of the climbing community. Nurse Patty’s perspective and insights come from caring for actual patients.

And me? I wrote a blog post a day for a year [almost] to see if I had what it took to write a blog post a day for a year. I set out to see if I could write a book. And if I were to write a book, what would I write about, I wondered?

Being a writer is about digging deep for honesty, and truth and integrity and facts. But as I‘ve often said, and gratefully have found other authors who agree with me, I write exclusively for myself. Author/columnist Joan Didion explained that she wrote “to find out what I am thinking.”

I do the same.

Yet, today, when this post is finished and published, I will get up from my chair and reenter my life again. The words I’ve written inform my actions and hold me to account. But I am human and far from perfect. Very far. Still, I have claimed my voice and present it as my own.

There is little to no artifice in what I write these days. I did that to make a living for years. Some pieces I produced were truly cringeworthy. But this blog has felt more like having a chat with chums. A little one-sided, I grant you.

But if we got together in person, you’re likely going to hear more of the same. And that’s a good thing. By reading my blog, you can decide in advance if I am a person you deem worthy or someone you want to stay far, far away from. Either choice is valid.

Much like life after you earn a degree or acquire a trade or other marketable skill, you still need to move forward and apply that learning to real life. It is no use talking about how to make the perfect omelette. The proof, they say, is in the pudding. Or, in this case, the omelette.

We cannot pre-think our daily life much less how it will unfold. Inevitably, there will be surprises and challenges and work that needs to be done every day if we’re lucky. Our value system informs what we do and well, or badly, we do it.

We can never really know for sure. In the end, it comes down to how we feel about how we did and are doing. Whether we are meeting our own goals and honoring our values and standards. That is very individualistic.

I am contemplating all of that at the moment. I accomplished a goal I set for myself [well, I will have in two days’ time]. I found out a lot about what I really think and feel about some subjects.

The other learning I will take away from this daily writing exercise is that I got, and get, to determine, “When is enough.” When you achieve that to your own satisfaction, I’d say you’ve done pretty well.

The Paradox

Every day, I seem to live the paradox poet Sarah Kay writes about.

Her insightful poem speaks to the fragmentation of attention and focus.

Let’s face it. There is never not a time when there is something else we could be doing.

I suffer regularly from this paradox. It can be attributed, in part, to unclear priorities. If you know exactly where you are heading and what you want to be doing, the paradox may not be as frequent or troubling.

But who among us has such clarity and certainty of purpose at every age and stage of their lives?

I think the paradox referenced here troubles everyone at some level and at some point. I’m not enamored thinking the only resolution might be on our deathbed, though that makes sense.

I’d like to find – and often enjoy – more periods of peace well before then. Those periods of peace seem to happen most reliably when I manage to get out of my head.

The Paradox

When I am inside writing,
all I can think about is how I should be outside living.

When I am outside living,
all I can do is notice all there is to write about.

When I read about love, I think I should be out loving.
When I love, I think I need to read more.

I am stumbling in pursuit of grace,
I hunt patience with a vengeance.

On the mornings when my brother’s tired muscles
held to the pillow, my father used to tell him,

For every moment you aren’t playing basketball,
someone else is on the court practicing.

I spend most of my time wondering
if I should be somewhere else.

So I have learned to shape the words thank you
with my first breath each morning, my last breath every night.

When the last breath comes, at least I will know I was thankful
for all the places I was so sure I was not supposed to be.

All those places I made it to,
all the loves I held, all the words I wrote.

And even if it is just for one moment,
I will be exactly where I am supposed to be.

Sarah Kay, https://www.lyrikline.org/en/poems/paradox-15406

Feels Upswell

Maybe it has something to do with the Andrea Bocelli concert we went to last night.

Such a privilege and a joy to see a world-class talent performing live and in person in a venue with 17,000 other people.

Maybe it has something to do with the upcoming one year anniversary of this daily blog.

Will I end it or change direction? At the moment, I have no idea.

Maybe it has to do with friends visiting. They come from a life I have left behind. They remind me of who I am and where I come from. How I had to live to survive.

Seeing Andrea Bocelli in concert last night reminded me how much my life has changed. I doubt I would have taken the opportunity had it presented itself in Canada.

Joy is multiplied when it is shared. And I had no one back there to share with.

It is always a learning opportunity to experience yourself in unfamiliar surroundings.

In the Orlando KIA Center I watched a seasoned musical genius wring every possible emotion out of the musical scale. I realized I was definitely not living in my version of Kansas anymore.

I well remember the unsettling pattern from my travels. It is hard to feel fully settled or grounded in a foreign country. I imagine it must take years to achieve that feeling.

That may explain why I am having that feeling now. Settling in a foreign land and separating from that which was so familiar for so very long.

Personal growth is usually incremental. But like arriving at any desired goal, working at something for years can appear to result in “overnight success.”

There can be several peak moments and precipitous valleys to go through along the way. Then something you strove for – often for years – is reality.

And with that, your reality suddenly is other than it was. You have arrived. Somewhere else that is different than where you were. Someone new and slightly unfamiliar who is different than who you were before.

This changed reality can bring with it a host of changes both internal and external. It can trigger – I am learning – an unfamiliar rise in emotions. It is perhaps nature’s way of internal decluttering.

I always believed that only by bringing something to light, can we see and examine it for what it is. It is only then that we can shed it and move on. That we can grow.

That would appear to apply to life changes, too.

There are markers in everyone’s life. Graduation day. The wedding ceremony. The pregnancy discovery. The birth of your first child.

A friend who dies unexpectedly and way too soon. Then one parent dies. Then the other. A cancer diagnosis in you or a loved one. Monitoring wonky lab results as if someone’s life depends on it. Because it does.

These changes rise incrementally even as we live our lives guided mostly by habit and daily rituals until there is – as my daughter put it – an “incident.” A something either large or small that changes the trajectory of a life.

So maybe the feels I am feeling are a cumulation of small events that have built up day over day and month over month for a good many months now. It intrigues me and makes me curious about what is going on inside me.

Among those uncomfortable feels is a rising sense of passion and reengagement in life. Modest ambition. Energy to pursue it. A feeling of being grounded and settling into place. Finally.

A saying popular in the last century was that the greatest gift a parent could give a child was roots and wings. Roots to bind them to who they were and where they came from. Wings to let them dream and grow and pursue their dreams.

Perhaps fomenting underneath my current state of emotional discombobulation are a manifestation of those two conditions.

Maybe all the internal seeking and emotional work I have done for so long have finally landed me here.

Inhabiting my self at last and fully for the first time? We’ll see.

Brinking

If I’m honest, coming up with a daily blog post has become a drag.

You will know if you read a recent post of mine that I am less than two months away from achieving my one year goal of publishing a blog post every day.

Looking back on my life, my ennui and that attitude is kind of predictable.

I tend to run out of gas and ambition on the final leg of any journey.

That was true in the case of coming up to completing my university degrees, pending motherhood (by month 9, I was ready to extract my baby with a vacuum cleaner (just kidding) – I think that “get it out of me” feeling is nature’s way to prepare you for giving birth), house buying (in one case, I actually bailed on the day the house deal was supposed to close – turns out that was very poor judgment), and many failed so-called intimate relationships.

Relationships broke down as I edged closer to true intimacy. I was a baby adult, you see. While I presented as a walking, talking, competent adult, I was – in reality – a mewling infant. If I started to get emotionally close to someone – that is, feeling vulnerable and safe – the infant side of me took over.

There is nothing particularly attractive or romantic about a twenty something year old carrying on like a five year old. Temper tantrums. Blind selfishness. Acting out by running away.

I was the living epitome of the hurt and angry child who packs up all her belongings in a handkerchief, sticks them on a pole, heads out the door (slamming it, of course), and down the road.

That works until close to nightfall when said child is faced with the looming cold and dark. It’s about that time of the day that your horrible parents don’t seem that horrible any more.

In truth, I wasn’t really much more developed than that. Arrested emotional development is real, my friends.

The value of a healthy family, I came to realize, was that it can (should) provide a safe container – a nest, if you will – where you can work out and work through childish emotions as they come up year after year. It’s called growing up. From about age 5, I grew mostly sideways.

This growing up business is, of course, far from a perfect science. Many people are simply shut down as children and forced to stew in their own emotional pain perpetually. They can grow up to be emotionally arrested, too.

The ideal of a safe family environment in which to take root and grow is just that for many – an ideal. None of us gets through childhood without scars.

So the urge to bolt at the gate just as things are starting to go right was habitual with me for a long time. Maybe I did that because otherwise I would be forced to acknowledge that I was a real grown-up adult. I wasn’t having it. I was still looking for a knight in shining armor.

The acknowledgement of total personal responsibility would have forced me to accept that I did have power over myself and my choices and my fate. Frankly, that seemed like way too much responsibility to take on.

And the other truth was, I feared failure and disappointment so creating those conditions myself gave me a lopsided sense of control. “See,” I could say to myself, “I knew this would never work out.” And son of a gun, I’d be right.

I call it brinking. Giving up just before you are going to succeed. Giving up just before an important goal is realized. Giving up shortly before I could catch the brass ring. (It wasn’t always that, in reality. I stuck with and accomplished a good number of goals. It’s just that the self-talk was discouraging and total joy killer.)

My self-talk in young adulthood was guided by self-loathing and a broad-based lack of self-confidence. Not exactly a loving and supportive voice. It has taken years to change it. To “grow out of it.” The first challenge was to see it, observe it as it was happening and call it what it was. Something like I am doing now.

The accomplishment of publishing a daily blog post every day for a year that I will celebrate won’t matter to another single living soul but me. But here’s the difference between little me and struggling adult me.

I now realize that the primary and only single living soul I have agency over and who matters to me is me. Not in a selfish sense but in a sense of total accountability for my own life. As poet William Ernest Henley famously phrased it in his poem Invictus:

“I am the master of my soul, I am the captain of my fate.”

I quite liked this summary of the poem’s meaning:

The last two lines of William Ernest Henley’s poem ‘Invictus‘ contain invaluable advice to those who blame God for their failures. It is not only about God, but the mindset that makes one surrender while faced with challenges. Challenges make one stronger but mentally submitting oneself to those impediments extinguishes the inner light that one carries inside the heart from infancy. Through these lines, Henley tried to say that it’s not about how difficult the path is, it’s about one’s attitude to keep moving forward without submitting oneself to fate’s recourse.

https://poemanalysis.com/william-ernest-henley/i-am-the-master-of-my-fate-i-am-the-captain-of-my-soul/

I finally get it, Mom and Dad.

You did what you knew and the best you could.

The rest of my story and how it unfolds is up to me.

Heigh-ho.

The Home Stretch

Two months from today, I will not publish a blog post for the first time in 365 days.

I’m not quite sure how I feel about that.

I set a goal on March 14, 2023 to write and publish a blog post every single day for a full year. god willing, on March 14, 2024, I will have reached that goal.

I am getting close. It is still sixty days away but I figure it’s time to start thinking about what’s next.

A book was supposed to come out of, or at least be supported by, this blog writing exercise.

No manuscript yet and that goal may have changed. I am not 100% sure.

Here is what I have learned since I started publishing this blog ten months ago.

Words saturate the world like wedding confetti. Depth and valuable content, however, seem scarcer these days, generally speaking.

There has always been an inherent promiscuity in the writing game. It was the French writer Moliere who aptly said: Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money.

I’ve learned lots about myself in this writing discipline/exercise. I am more old school than I first believed. I have actually come to cherish that about myself. Conservative and cautious at core though sometimes my decisions are impulsive and ill-thought through. It seems to balance out.

Certain life facts are immutable. Where you are born and who you are born to are among them. Choices have consequences. The world will move along, with or without you.

The most significant moments in anyone’s life are the moment of our birth and the moment of our death. Everything in the middle is… well … in the middle. Each person’s stories and paths are different. But the beginning and end are the same for all of us.

I believe only some things in life are tried and true. It is our individual job to discover them. We must meet the twists and turns life hands us and overcome challenges while learning from them. This is the process of maturing, I believe, or adulting or whatever you call it.

If you still hold the same life views at sixty that you did when you were twenty, I’d venture to guess you haven’t moved very far along life’s continuum. I have met elderly women who sport the same haircuts they had in their university graduation pictures.

They speak with the same breathless adoration of their college alma mater or sorority and use the same jargon of their youth. Perhaps I am typecasting, but those are not the type of women I usually have much in common with or want to know very well.

If you have one or two good friends in later life that you share much in common with, you are lucky. If you have a handful of friends in that category, you are wealthy beyond measure.

In our society, we have a tendency to equate happiness and success with quantity over quality. As I get older, quality is becoming more desirable and precious.

Quality time with loved ones. Quality consumables shared with those loved ones. Fine books (There are many if you but look.) Fine music. Paintings. The sound of wind moving through a stand of trees. Birdsong. Conversation.

We tend to ignore or give short shrift to simple joys and pleasures in our youth. Not enough action in them to satisfy our ambitions. Fact is, we are much too busy in young adulthood trying to build some semblance of a life based on the scripts we inherited.

We all have to keep body and soul together as best we can. And, one day, if we have a family, we have to keep their bodies and souls together, too. It is all very distracting and energy intense.

I have learned that universal truths remain universal. And for all of us, one day, everything will come to a screeching halt. I have tried to wrap my head around that certain eventuality.

It is either life’s kindness or built-in denial that serves as a survival mechanism. We generally find it hard to imagine ourselves not being here any more, in this body, and on this planet.

Who knows what happens when we depart this mortal coil? Certainly not I. I have some theories but they are only that: theories. So the seeker in me will no doubt continue the hunt for answers to life’s “big” questions when this blog posting goal has been accomplished.

I may do something different with my writing. Or I may focus the writing on something similar. Who knows? I may actually bear down and write that novel/memoir/novella. It all depends.

The question I have yet to answer is, on what exactly that new path going forward will depend?

Here’s to having hope and keeping faith that I will eventually find out.

Selling Instant Happiness

The high road is always an option. Finding a way out of difficult circumstances may not be easy but it is available. Usually with hard work and commitment. But let’s not get carried away. Radical transformation of your life or person is not possible for everyone. If it is, it is rarely easy.

And not always logistically possible at a given point. I was a single parent. My options were limited. Every parents’ options are limited if they are serious about being good parents. Kids are a major and serious time suck.

It taxes my patience to watch the endless carousel of “better you, better life” salespeople online. What bothers me most is the “one size fits all” approach that most of them take. Or worse, the purveyors of instant, easy healing tell us “YOU TOO” can be whatever you want to be.

Seriously? Endless possibilities may be a great message for the young and unformed. Who wouldn’t want a fast and easy ticket to “instant fame, success, happiness and wealth”? The problem is, life doesn’t work that way.

The message that “good things take time” doesn’t seem to be delivered much these days. Maybe it is but is just isn’t getting through. How can it compete with the messages of the fast, easy and no-fail crowd?

The notion of taking life step by step seems old-fashioned and irrelevant today. The rules for building a life and a family and wealth have been shaken to the core. Everyone is looking for a shortcut or fast track. Because they have been repeatedly told and reassured it is out there.

I believe there is a rude and widespread awakening coming. Time runs out. Responsibilities and urgent demands – emotional, professional and financial – increase exponentially as we get older. Or they should. Life closes in.

If you are still working as an Instagram influencer in your late 40s without a family or assets or anything else to ground you, there is very likely some harsh reality ahead.

I get angry because so many are pushing a “bill of goods” at us. The consequence is that instead of setting and pursuing concrete goals for self-development and self-improvement, many opt to take a shortcut to their dreams. So what happens if those dreams of “easy, instant success” don’t pan out? What is Plan B? Your fallback? Does anyone even think like that any more?

Physics has immutable rules. Life has immutable rules. Consequences are real. Life is finite. I have apologized to myself for pursuing the path that most of my peers elected to follow, instead of the road less taken. My loss. I was only half-brave, half-confident, half-committed to my own happiness. I didn’t believe I deserved it.

I am now at a place where I realize I deserve happiness (aka peace of mind) and getting there is up to me. I recently did some stock-taking. The track record of my life is a little spotty but it held me together for as long as I needed it to.

So my rant (and this IS a rant) is this. The madness of the world today needs a major course correction or it needs to come to an end. The extreme disconnect from reality and sanity we are living through today is unsustainable. Sadly, it is usually catastrophe that brings us to a screeching halt.

Teasing out a human-focussed, self-directed life of your own choosing is a hard slog. But the formula is pretty easy. Put yourself at the center of any discussion about what happiness is and what you want your life to be. Steel yourself for pushback.

My idea of happiness is a life awash in books and flowers and great food and loving, lively relationships (well, maybe that is your idea of happiness and if so, email me). But that may not be yours.

And if it isn’t, then what is? Only you can answer that and it is the main question you must answer and frequently come back to. Set your path and life will cheer you on even as it is putting every imaginable challenge in your way. For some incomprehensible reason, that too is part of life’s rules.

You are the center of your own life. Examine your idea of what “selfish” really is because that is what they will call you.

Everyone else has an opinion of you that suits their own experience and agenda. It is up to you to establish the life and goals you want to pursue during your precious time on this planet. When you do, then be prepared to do whatever it takes to reach them.

Is your main life goal is attracting two million followers on TikTok and reaping the financial rewards well into your 50s and 60s? Are you 35 years old and setting out to give me financial advice that will “turn my life around”? Are you telling me what I did and didn’t do wrong in my life and what I should and shouldn’t have done?

If so, don’t bother to send me that email.

I can already tell you we have nothing in common.

Facing Forward

Today the curator of the Ultimate Blog Challenge on Facebook asks us to plan the 90 days after the challenge ends on October 31st. Halloween for those of you who have been sleeping under a rock.

God knows I’ve tried to ignore the incessant commercial come-ons. How many Kit Kat bars and Reese’s Pieces can one person eat anyway?

This will be the third monthlong Ultimate Blog Challenge I’ve finished this year. Ninety days ahead takes us through November, December until the last day of January. Oy, do I have plans.

November 1st is always a new year’s day of sorts for me. It is loosely associated with All Hallows Eve or Hallowe’en. According to pagan Celtic traditions, it is said that on this day the spirits of the dead are most clearly present on planet Earth. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samhain

It also marks the time of harvest and beginning of the “dark part of the year.” The only harvest I participate in is doing my part in filling up the sacks of local trick and treaters.

As my spiritual “New Year,” I do have some modest resolutions for the next ninety days.

Stay healthy. That’s always Number One and always will be. I am a devotee of the “health equals wealth” philosophy. Without health, wealth don’t mean much except applying it to attempts to restore it.

Develop a debt management plan. This is also a perpetual theme in my life. I would love to be one of those people sitting on bags of money. I’m not. I’m a very low profile, ordinary financial citizen. So I manage debt.

Survive the holidays. There is a swack of them coming up in the next ninety days. If you go by the dictates of advertisers, you could go broke tricking out and tearing down and retricking out your house for the tsunami of “blessed events” coming up.

My strategy is to do as little as humanly possible for each of these events: Halloween (in a couple of days); Thanksgiving; Christmas celebrations (which is essentially the whole month of December); New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. And all of January for recovery.

If the marketing strategy is to keep us on our toes by distracting us with one holiday after another that we are expected to execute “perfectly,” it is rather brilliant.

And if we don’t have the spirit or means to pursue holiday perfection, no matter. A whole lot of compensatory products are available out there to make us feel better about not “being perfect.”

If we are single and don’t have an existing or created family to go to all the trouble for, so much the better.

And, of course, I plan to keep writing. This blog has surprised me. Over 225 days in a row so far. The biggest surprise has been that I’ve managed to keep doing it every day and plan to continue. It centers me and reinforces my own views about the world and what’s happening in it. I wish I were more unfailingly optimistic about what I see.

By January 31, 2024, I expect to be six weeks away from the goal I set up on March 14th, 2024 of writing a daily blog post for a full year. I set out thinking I would have a book manuscript by then. That seems unlikely.

There have been an inordinate amount of distractions this year. Challenges I didn’t expect. Challenges I took on that cost me more emotionally and financially than originally anticipated.

External demands that ranged from irritating to overwhelming. I was never quite sure starting out which way a challenge was going to turn out. Life is surprising that way.

In spite of the roller coaster I’ve been on this past year, I am happy to report that marketing soaked holiday celebrations have not been among them. And won’t be, dieu merci.

Rocking Nothing

Today I am thinking about nothing.

Nothing in particular. What doing nothing means. What having nothing means.

Generally, people seem to be very scared of nothing. The requirement to be doing something all the time is especially tyrannical in the middle of our lives. It can take a concentrated effort to slow down and do nothing. Some people simply can’t handle it. Not comfortably at any rate.

We are all aware of how limited our time is on Earth. That can make us anxious about “filling” every minute of every day. That is not to be confused with living “fully” each day. Our anxiety can grow as the years begin to speed up, quickly at first, and soon they start to fly by.

Joni Mitchell’s advice to a young man in her song The Circle Game captures this: “And they tell him, Take your time, It won’t be long now before you drag your feet to slow that circle down.”

Death is perceived as the greatest nothingness of all. Unless we believe in reincarnation, we may believe only darkness and oblivion await us after death. I am not so sure of that anymore. The Universe is far too complex and convoluted to let us off that easy. But, I don’t really know. No one does.

So in light of life’s inevitable endpoint, and if we’re lucky, we start to slow down. After years of frenetic dedication to raising kids and making a living and staying in the mainstream of life, I stopped. One day, I found myself looking out my window at a pleasant scene whilst doing absolutely nothing. I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. I was just sitting.

You can’t imagine how foreign and far-fetched that scenario was for a Type A personality like me. I was steeped in the virtues of the Protestant work ethic. If you were too, you may get how odd and slightly terrifying doing nothing is.

This is the paradox of the human condition. We set goals early in our lives for the things we want to have and accomplish in our lives. Many of us metaphorically break our necks to get what we want.

But we rarely sit down and take a hard look at what we really want and need. Then we make our lives more difficult and less peaceful by comparing ourselves to our peers. If we don’t have what they have, we can get scared and sad. When we ignore the wisdom of stopping to smell the flowers, the memories of our life might be but a blur.

Stopping to smell the flowers can be the very place where we find joy and feed our sense of wonder. Only by stopping can we marinate our souls and senses in the wonder of what is all around us. We often fail to recognize that the little things are really the big things in life. I blinked and my children were adults. They will never be little again and it makes my heart hurt. I missed out on many small and tender and precious moments with them in my drive to survive and succeed.

These days I can be perfectly happy doing nothing. That is progress for me. I grab the chance to do absolutely nothing whenever I can get it. It is not that I dislike being busy or having something valuable to occupy my time. I actually quite like being busy. But these days, it is more of a choice. When life gets too crazy, it is up to me to slow it down.

It has become necessary to consider what avocations make me happy. Beyond the necessary mundanities of day-to-day life, I mean. There are only a few. They could be considered silly and frivolous pursuits but they are mine. I no longer need to justify them or justify my existence.

I have a friend who is a genius at this. He walks in the world at his own pace and is directed by his own interests. He goes on long daily walks just to exercise. He has been known to sit for a couple of hours on a park bench and just watch what is going on in the world and the people around him. I have always admired and envied him for that capability.

So I’m thinking I’ll sit awhile today and just watch the world go by. With no lives on the line, or mandatory issues that require my attention, I’m free to do that. It likely isn’t what the expression carpe diem was supposed to mean. But instead of “seizing the day,” I’m just gonna sidle up to it with a cup of hot tea and watch it amble by.