Norm
Wizard
read this. Norm's been thinking again:
Do you find yourself asking God, or no one in particular for “just 20 more good years?” Or 30 or 2? Did you ask yourself if God actually showed up and said “OK, you got it” what exactly you’d do after that? Would you reassess your days, quit your job, leave your spouse, or travel the world? If so, then why wouldn’t you do that any way? Maybe it’s best we don’t know. Maybe it’s the unknown that keeps us honest, so to speak. I heard a song telling me “to live life like you’re dying.” I suppose that’s not bad advice if I’ve only got a few years to the end. But if I’m 18, well then, that’s already been done hasn’t it? You know, the hippies kind of already did that. It’s fun for a while. But then Herpes, HIV, Hepatitis C, and bankruptcy show up and you’ve still got too many years left of living like “you wish you were dead.”
No, it’s probably a good idea, at least when you’re young, to live like you got a lot of time. Train for a good vocation, “make hay while the day is young”, and try to do something you like I suppose. Live like you’re going to need some resources to support you for the “back 9” of life. Then, well then, do what you really like. What doesn’t pay so well but fills the soul. It’s not as easy as you think. You become successful, you make some money and you think “Well if I do this for 10 more years I’ll have this much” and you forget to switch gears. Diminishing returns I say. The first of your efforts brings sustenance, the next brings security, and afterwards is not more security. Just greed, and a fading memory or what brought a smile to your face as a child. What really makes you feel great.
If you advertised your life on craigslist what would it say? Mine might read:
“52 years young. Body is well maintained-no hippy stuff during the break-in period. Turn-key operation. Runs well. Needs nothing. Spirit is good. Mind is disciplined. Able to enjoy life’s simple pleasures. Got enough things to last a few years anyway.”
I like it better than:
“52 years old. Lots of money. Lots of toys. Always garaged but got a bum heart and a spirit leak so will need new relationship and some TLC of both to get it going again.”
Or:
“52 years old with a lot of mileage. No liver, no lungs, and half a brain but had a lot of fun way back when. Best used for parts. Don’t ask me which. I suppose someone could use the eyes. All offers considered.”
At 27 my wife and I broke a wishbone. She asked what I wished for. I said “peace of mind.” At 52 I suppose I’m as close as my body, my mind, and my past will allow me to come. It’s still the only real wish I have and what I wish for my children. Have you ever wondered why there are so many books “for the soul?” “The ten things this”, “The secret of that”, or “2001 things to do before you die.” It seems like most people have lost their inner compass. They don’t know what makes them happy. They’re void of spirit, of quest, and of duty. The void begs to be filled with purpose. To be told what is right, what is wrong, and what makes them happy. Their friendships are weak and shallow and they wonder how it came to pass. They’re the ones that say “you’re so lucky to have such a great kid, a great job, a great marriage…” and unwilling to accede such a person made a huge investment of time, and caring, and study, and improvement to achieve such ends. They see the final result but refuse to see the process. Even if you take the time to explain to them “the process” they cannot see it. They refuse to, because it’s simply too hard to follow for it demands commitment and self-sacrifice. But even sacrifice is not really sacrifice if you enjoy what you have and realize that the finished product, which is only a prospect early on, is greater than the pleasure of now.
I have not figured out life. On the contrary, I have figured out that it cannot be figured out. But I am thankful for peace of mind. And I am thankful that I realize that a ride on my bike, a conversation with my daughter about her aspirations or one with my son about philosophy, and a cup of coffee with a good friend are the best this life has to offer. I have climbed the mountain and am grateful to have done so, but as I come down I realize, as Dorothy did, that the best of life was always in my back yard.
Do you find yourself asking God, or no one in particular for “just 20 more good years?” Or 30 or 2? Did you ask yourself if God actually showed up and said “OK, you got it” what exactly you’d do after that? Would you reassess your days, quit your job, leave your spouse, or travel the world? If so, then why wouldn’t you do that any way? Maybe it’s best we don’t know. Maybe it’s the unknown that keeps us honest, so to speak. I heard a song telling me “to live life like you’re dying.” I suppose that’s not bad advice if I’ve only got a few years to the end. But if I’m 18, well then, that’s already been done hasn’t it? You know, the hippies kind of already did that. It’s fun for a while. But then Herpes, HIV, Hepatitis C, and bankruptcy show up and you’ve still got too many years left of living like “you wish you were dead.”
No, it’s probably a good idea, at least when you’re young, to live like you got a lot of time. Train for a good vocation, “make hay while the day is young”, and try to do something you like I suppose. Live like you’re going to need some resources to support you for the “back 9” of life. Then, well then, do what you really like. What doesn’t pay so well but fills the soul. It’s not as easy as you think. You become successful, you make some money and you think “Well if I do this for 10 more years I’ll have this much” and you forget to switch gears. Diminishing returns I say. The first of your efforts brings sustenance, the next brings security, and afterwards is not more security. Just greed, and a fading memory or what brought a smile to your face as a child. What really makes you feel great.
If you advertised your life on craigslist what would it say? Mine might read:
“52 years young. Body is well maintained-no hippy stuff during the break-in period. Turn-key operation. Runs well. Needs nothing. Spirit is good. Mind is disciplined. Able to enjoy life’s simple pleasures. Got enough things to last a few years anyway.”
I like it better than:
“52 years old. Lots of money. Lots of toys. Always garaged but got a bum heart and a spirit leak so will need new relationship and some TLC of both to get it going again.”
Or:
“52 years old with a lot of mileage. No liver, no lungs, and half a brain but had a lot of fun way back when. Best used for parts. Don’t ask me which. I suppose someone could use the eyes. All offers considered.”
At 27 my wife and I broke a wishbone. She asked what I wished for. I said “peace of mind.” At 52 I suppose I’m as close as my body, my mind, and my past will allow me to come. It’s still the only real wish I have and what I wish for my children. Have you ever wondered why there are so many books “for the soul?” “The ten things this”, “The secret of that”, or “2001 things to do before you die.” It seems like most people have lost their inner compass. They don’t know what makes them happy. They’re void of spirit, of quest, and of duty. The void begs to be filled with purpose. To be told what is right, what is wrong, and what makes them happy. Their friendships are weak and shallow and they wonder how it came to pass. They’re the ones that say “you’re so lucky to have such a great kid, a great job, a great marriage…” and unwilling to accede such a person made a huge investment of time, and caring, and study, and improvement to achieve such ends. They see the final result but refuse to see the process. Even if you take the time to explain to them “the process” they cannot see it. They refuse to, because it’s simply too hard to follow for it demands commitment and self-sacrifice. But even sacrifice is not really sacrifice if you enjoy what you have and realize that the finished product, which is only a prospect early on, is greater than the pleasure of now.
I have not figured out life. On the contrary, I have figured out that it cannot be figured out. But I am thankful for peace of mind. And I am thankful that I realize that a ride on my bike, a conversation with my daughter about her aspirations or one with my son about philosophy, and a cup of coffee with a good friend are the best this life has to offer. I have climbed the mountain and am grateful to have done so, but as I come down I realize, as Dorothy did, that the best of life was always in my back yard.
