Catching the Car
Ever get really, really tired? And also tired of being tired? I have. Often, in fact. I've had "someday" goals, that I've always thought I'd accomplish once I got out of school. Or got married. Or after I got my first job. Or once I felt like an adult...say, after 30. Or 40. And then I woke up one day and all of those milestones, along with the goals I thought I'd accomplish by then, were gone.
And not only that, I felt, at this point, the time to do those things was now too short. The obligations I had at 30, which I thought would lessen by my mid-40s, relentlessly increased. I had reached a point where I likely couldn't quit my job, even if I had an idea of something I wanted to do instead. I didn't have the capital to start a new venture on hand. Worse, though...I didn't have any ideas or, more importantly, any hope of things getting better, or more exciting. I felt like the best years of my life had passed me by, and while I enjoyed many things about them, they were irretrievably gone, and now there was just what used to be. At best, I figured, I had a comfortable life of slowly-declining health and awareness ahead of me. Even if someone handed me a hundred million dollars, with the stipulation that I still needed to work for a living, I don't believe I could've come up with anything that involved any real contribution to society. A new house in the mountains, maybe. Possibly a boat. A sports car or ten would be nice, probably. But what then?
I found myself worrying a lot. And asking a huge number of questions of myself. I even worried about the questions, figuring I probably should've asked myself these things 20 or 30 years ago. I had this nagging feeling that we mostly likely all experience at one time or another - that there must be some meaning which could be eked out of my days. I'd still be older tomorrow, whether I made the attempt to find out, or not. I began to hope, just a little, that though none of the years could be re-lived, then at least some of what I perceived as lost time could be redeemed.
But then I woke up a different day, and realized that life is not about what society would have you believe. Even though much of my life had not been lived pursuing any certain passion, and the results of many of my efforts seemed muddy, at best, taking stock of things reminded me that maybe I'm listening to the current script too closely. The script that tells us what is important, what we should want, what we deserve, the type of person we should try to be (and be seen with), and the age by which we should attain all of this.
It struck me clearly that most of what I believed, about myself, the world, my friends...even my family, was wrong. Please don't misunderstand: This isn't some "find-yourself-through-positive-thinking" blog. There are bills and jobs and dentist visits and a thousand other unpleasantries, to be sure. But there are also other continents and people and ideas I hadn't yet imagined. There was music I hadn't yet heard and movies I hadn't yet seen, and future rainstorms to fall on tin roofs and the smell of cedars growing alongside the road. There were people, right in my own community, with 8 or 9 decades of fascinating stories, many of which involved far more hardship than I've ever seen, and yet they radiated a joy and a youthful curiosity about the world that I was missing. Missing, simply because I bought the lie that all of life is a race to the front for a select few, and a constant struggle to keep your head above water for the rest. It is more than that. Much more.
And further, all of your cumulative experience in life so far - the good, the bad, the failures, the joys, the friendships, the loneliness - every bit of it - have taught you something. Something someone else needs to hear right now. Instead of following the 10 steps to become more successful, or the foolproof, money-back-guarantee plan to become more likable and charming, what if the key to 'meaning' was simply slowing down, experiencing every second of every day for what it is, and working to keep the focus of our lives outward; toward others, toward learning, toward sharing things we've learned, toward learning from things others have to share?
The most difficult thing about life is not found in keeping up a good treadmill pace. It is having the courage to see that the treadmill is a manufactured idea - a false reality - in the first place. We set about chasing cars, because that's what everyone else is doing. But there is another way. You don't need to be wealthy, or important, or have unusual talent. And here's the thing - you don't even need a long-term goal. It will require something of you, of course. But what doesn't?
Another day is being exacted from you right now. Another 24 hours of dullness, or of being half-awake. Or of wondering what could be - and then tomorrow - what could have been. This blog, and The Hurricane Deck podcast, are part of a grand experiment. One in which we will test the theory that everyone has something to say, that life is in the moments and possibilities we have access to every day, and that the dullness we feel - no matter how ingrained it is - is not only reversible, it's actually not a long-term problem to do so. There IS a reason you are here. We'll be living this experiment together. If you've ever felt like maybe it was all over, like maybe that feeling of being really tired, or directionless, or uninspired is just how things are going to be from here on out, stay with us.
There is more left to your life than chasing cars.