Not quite two weeks ago, I decided to pursue happiness even if that pursuit meant giving up the security I currently enjoy. This decision did not come easy for me and I find myself inclined to second-guess it even though in my heart I know it is the best decision I could make. I am, perhaps quite understandably, afraid to leap into the unknown (you can read my reflections on the subject here).
But (as I wrote before) I am unwilling to be ruled by fear. As Winston Churchill said, "Fear is a reaction. Courage is a decision." The reaction is appropriate—there are real risks if you Leap Before You Look—but decisions should be based on more than just fear.
Still, fear has kept me from implementing the decision I've made. The next step can't be taken while I hold onto the handrail of current security, but I've hesitated to let go. In fact, I'm still hesitating, though I think the time for hesitation is past. More and more urgently I find myself prompted by my conscience to "cut the cord" that both binds me to an unsatisfactory situation and provides me with a sense of security. Until I do—until I take real action, until I burn that bridge—I will find it too easy to "settle" for what I have rather than reaching for what I crave.
Ambrose Redmoon wrote, "Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear." There's so much that I want, that I look forward to, that I hope for, that is more important than fear, that courage is my only recourse. It's time to 'screw my courage to the sticking place' and trust that 'I will not fail.'
C.S. Lewis said, "You are never too old to set a new goal or to dream a new dream," and Anais Nin wrote, "Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." Both those quotes—in fact, all the quotes I've cited today—resonate with me. It's time to cut the cord, to burn the bridge, to take that leap of faith, to toss the dice with everything on the line. Goodbye tenure, goodbye home-ownership, goodbye illusion of safety...
Hello possibility, hello liberty, hello infinity.
Precarious human existence.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Brother Can You Spare a...
...dime?
So...I am a good writer—it's one of the areas in my life where my confidence is quite high. I'm good, I'm fast, and (if someone is willing to pay me) I'm even cheap; you can have all three in this instance.
A fan (God bless family!) asked recently, "Why aren't you published or writing articles for money in great magazines and newspapers?" My reply was, "Because I don't have a clue how to market myself as a writer."
Please note that I didn't say, "Because I'm not good enough." I am good enough—awesome is as awesome does, after all—I don't lack talent but rather knowledge. And ignorance is a curable condition.
Now is a good time to ask the question; I'm sure at least one of my readers can advise me, so... "How do I market myself as a writer?"
Show me the money!
So...I am a good writer—it's one of the areas in my life where my confidence is quite high. I'm good, I'm fast, and (if someone is willing to pay me) I'm even cheap; you can have all three in this instance.
A fan (God bless family!) asked recently, "Why aren't you published or writing articles for money in great magazines and newspapers?" My reply was, "Because I don't have a clue how to market myself as a writer."
Please note that I didn't say, "Because I'm not good enough." I am good enough—awesome is as awesome does, after all—I don't lack talent but rather knowledge. And ignorance is a curable condition.
Now is a good time to ask the question; I'm sure at least one of my readers can advise me, so... "How do I market myself as a writer?"
Show me the money!
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
My Awesome Life
A few days ago, my sister noted that since I've changed my diet/lifestyle a couple of weeks ago, my energy and mood seems more balanced. I hadn't really given it much thought, but she was absolutely right—I've been more consistently more upbeat and even optimistic since making these changes, and I attribute it to a metabolism that is just working better: I've had plenty of physical symptoms to suggest that my metabolism is working better, but I was too busy enjoying my "new life" to notice that my emotional state has been more positive.
In fact, my life is awesome.
I'm still facing the same challenges and frustrations I've always been, and I find them...challenging and frustrating. I am not immune to the vicissitudes we all must face, and I'm not always cheerful or happy. Yet none of that can change the fact that my life is awesome; it's wonderful to finally, clearly see it.
I've had an intellectual understanding that my life was awesome for some years. I've known it, in my head, and that's not to be denigrated. As an intellectual, I've always considered it important to have that cerebral "knowing." It's valuable. Yet experiencing it more viscerally, in the gut and in the flesh, is...
Well, it's awesome.
And because I'm finally "feeling it," I'm ready to make some changes. For example:
In fact, my life is awesome.
I'm still facing the same challenges and frustrations I've always been, and I find them...challenging and frustrating. I am not immune to the vicissitudes we all must face, and I'm not always cheerful or happy. Yet none of that can change the fact that my life is awesome; it's wonderful to finally, clearly see it.
I've had an intellectual understanding that my life was awesome for some years. I've known it, in my head, and that's not to be denigrated. As an intellectual, I've always considered it important to have that cerebral "knowing." It's valuable. Yet experiencing it more viscerally, in the gut and in the flesh, is...
Well, it's awesome.
And because I'm finally "feeling it," I'm ready to make some changes. For example:
I'm too busy being awesome to fit personal drama into my schedule. I care about you, but I don't care about the problems you refuse to face or the challenges you refuse to accept, and aren't those things where personal drama begins?And because I'm awesome and awesome people embrace challenges, I'm less fearful than I have been of some of the more daring decisions I've been contemplating. After all, I'm awesome, and awesome people don't settle for less-than-awesome lives. When the going gets rough, the awesome remain awesome.
My awesome life has little room in it for people who aren't sufficiently awesome. It isn't difficult to be sufficiently awesome... but if you're consistently negative, consistently selfish, consistently playing the victim, consistently refusing to accept help when it's offered, consistently standing still when you could be moving on, then really I don't. I still love you, you still matter to me, but there's just no significant place for you in my awesome life. I pray daily (and awesomely) that if you do not achieve awesomeness, that awesomeness will be thrust upon you.
I'm not expecting perfection—I'm well aware of my own imperfections, and don't expect something of others that I can't deliver myself—but I am demanding awesomeness. Please be awesome.
Because I'm awesome, it's important that I treat others awesomely. Even those who, sadly, aren't sufficiently awesome to have a significant place in my awesome life deserve to be treated awesomely. I will strive to treat everyone, from my most awesome friend to my least awesome enemy, awesomely.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Principles, in Principle
Just about everyone favors the principle of "principles." In an ideal world, everyone would live according to enduring principles that applied all the time and that changed only rarely and after careful consideration. In this ideal world, we could anticipate how people would behave—we could trust them, at least to be consistent, over the long haul—and plan accordingly.
I'm sure you've noticed by now that this is not in fact an ideal world. ;-)
Frequently—perhaps even usually—people today espouse principles they claim to live by, but those principles aren't enduring; whenever they turn out to be inconvenient or un-self-serving, exceptions are made or they are modified so that those "principles" (and I use the term advisedly) become utterly situational, inconstant, and unreliable. What I think of as actual principles, most people see more as guidelines, subject to ready modification at the first moment they place unpleasant demands on them.
Those aren't principles, people; they're guidelines.
Guidelines are great, and I have a great many of them. They aren't intended to be principles and I don't pretend they are; I identify them as guidelines because I don't think it's appropriate to be bound to them. I only have a very few principles, but I happily bind myself to them no matter what the circumstances or who they effect because I think they're that important:
I know full well that makes me a rarity in today's society. I'm well aware that it makes me vulnerable to those who are "pragmatic." The unscrupulous will always have an advantage over me, because I have chosen to bind myself to principles while they aren't bound to anything.
I'm fine with that. I'm not responsible for who they are, only for who I am. And I choose to be, to the best of my ability, a person of principle.
I'm sure you've noticed by now that this is not in fact an ideal world. ;-)
Frequently—perhaps even usually—people today espouse principles they claim to live by, but those principles aren't enduring; whenever they turn out to be inconvenient or un-self-serving, exceptions are made or they are modified so that those "principles" (and I use the term advisedly) become utterly situational, inconstant, and unreliable. What I think of as actual principles, most people see more as guidelines, subject to ready modification at the first moment they place unpleasant demands on them.
Those aren't principles, people; they're guidelines.
Guidelines are great, and I have a great many of them. They aren't intended to be principles and I don't pretend they are; I identify them as guidelines because I don't think it's appropriate to be bound to them. I only have a very few principles, but I happily bind myself to them no matter what the circumstances or who they effect because I think they're that important:
- be honest
- be tactful
- acknowledge my own
- faults
- biases
- weaknesses
- be fair
I know full well that makes me a rarity in today's society. I'm well aware that it makes me vulnerable to those who are "pragmatic." The unscrupulous will always have an advantage over me, because I have chosen to bind myself to principles while they aren't bound to anything.
I'm fine with that. I'm not responsible for who they are, only for who I am. And I choose to be, to the best of my ability, a person of principle.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Gossip is a Drug
Yesterday I happened to overhear bits and pieces of a conversation among several people I know, like, and have always respected. I wasn't eavesdropping—in fact, I was "on the job," so to speak, and because I was on the job I didn't hang on every word—but these people didn't seem concerned about who might overhear them, and I picked up on a few words or phrases here and there; enough to get the gist.
The topic of conversation included situations I'm familiar with, and the tone and tenor of the conversation was sometimes condescending, often judgmental, generally snide, and just plain nasty...in short, it was gossip.
Like many drugs, gossip is intoxicating: it feeds the gossip's ego, it provides the illusion of an Olympian (god-like) point of view, and it's titillating—it feeds voyeuristic tendencies. Like many drugs, gossip is (psychologically) addictive: gossips become 'addicted' to the 'buzz.' And like many drugs, gossip is destructive: it's destructive of relationships, it's destructive of trust, it's destructive of character, it's destructive of integrity.
And like addicts who don't consider themselves addicts, gossips tend not to think of themselves as gossips at all. "Everyone's entitled to an opinion" is part of the refrain, and "Don't I have a right to free speech?" And of course it's true that everyone's entitled to an opinion (even gossips), and everyone has a constitutionally protected right to free speech (even gossips).
This isn't about rights, but rather about what's right. Although I defend the free speech rights of neo-Nazis, I do not think them right, and I exercise my free speech rights in opposition to their arguments. Having a right doesn't make one right, and gossip is such a petty thing to stand on your rights for, destructive out of all proportion to its banality.
Gossip is a drug, destructive of lives and relationships, but too many gossips just can't stop.
And if there was a 12-step program for gossips, no one would go.
The topic of conversation included situations I'm familiar with, and the tone and tenor of the conversation was sometimes condescending, often judgmental, generally snide, and just plain nasty...in short, it was gossip.
Like many drugs, gossip is intoxicating: it feeds the gossip's ego, it provides the illusion of an Olympian (god-like) point of view, and it's titillating—it feeds voyeuristic tendencies. Like many drugs, gossip is (psychologically) addictive: gossips become 'addicted' to the 'buzz.' And like many drugs, gossip is destructive: it's destructive of relationships, it's destructive of trust, it's destructive of character, it's destructive of integrity.
And like addicts who don't consider themselves addicts, gossips tend not to think of themselves as gossips at all. "Everyone's entitled to an opinion" is part of the refrain, and "Don't I have a right to free speech?" And of course it's true that everyone's entitled to an opinion (even gossips), and everyone has a constitutionally protected right to free speech (even gossips).
This isn't about rights, but rather about what's right. Although I defend the free speech rights of neo-Nazis, I do not think them right, and I exercise my free speech rights in opposition to their arguments. Having a right doesn't make one right, and gossip is such a petty thing to stand on your rights for, destructive out of all proportion to its banality.
Gossip is a drug, destructive of lives and relationships, but too many gossips just can't stop.
And if there was a 12-step program for gossips, no one would go.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Free Ride
(Well, not free...)
Among the many things I claim to be—teacher, preacher, actor, writer, poet, student, scuba diver, biker—when writing I find I tend to neglect the "biker" part. And that's not fair.
I don't suppose I'm a "typical" biker. Sure, I ride a Harley, and sure I've got tattoos, and I absolutely love to ride, but I'm not really affiliated with a club and most of my riding is solo. I feel the fellowship of the road and the almost-mystical freedom bikers know, but I don't obsess about riding any more than I obsess about scuba diving or writing or whatever. I don't drop every spare dollar on my bike (a beautiful 2009 Harley Davidson Road King Classic), although I do spend money on it once in a while, and I don't ride every chance I get, though I prefer riding to driving in principle (and because it's more economical fuel-wise).
Still, there is a freedom I find when riding; there is something therapeutic about rolling down the road with wind in my face and sun on my skin and the rumble of the engine beneath. There is something profoundly empowering about twisting the throttle and accelerating away; away from my mundane existence, away from my worries and frets, away from my frustrations and anxieties, away.
There's more to two-wheel therapy than escape, however. Sometimes it's what's in the rearview, and sometimes it's what's in front of you, but often, often, it's the ride itself that is therapeutic. It's a powerful sensory experience: wind against your face, sun on your skin, the sounds of the engine and the tires on the road, the smells of the countryside, the warmth, the chill, the sights—all these things stimulate senses too-often anesthetized by our modern mediated lifestyle.
And riding is empowering...in a world where so many of us are so often at the mercy of forces outside our control that a sense of empowerment is precious and rare.
Physics may play a part in it; even a heavy pig like my bike—810 pounds plus rider—has a better power-weight ratio than all but the most extravagant of automobiles. Occasionally some young driver in a souped-up import will pull up next to me at a light and want to "race." I don't do that—I have nothing to prove—yet ironically my normal, measured acceleration is almost always better than said import can manage with the accelerator pedal floored.
Maybe you're wondering what stimulated this blog. It isn't a subject I write on, really—it isn't really about the traumas in my life or the epiphanies that excite me—so what brought this on? Fair question...
This morning my Harley goes in for its 35,000 mile service, and while it's in I'm having a different pair of handlebars installed. All this is in preparation for next weekend's Laughlin River Run, an event that draws bikers from across the country. I've never been—let's face it, I'm not a "typical biker," not into drinking and dancing and breaking the rules for the sake of breaking the rules, so it's a bit of a foreign land to me—but with recent traumas (ah-HA!) and their effects on my schedule, I found myself free and some friends were attending, so I figured, "Why not?" Something new, something different, something outside my comfort zone, might be just what the doctor ordered.
So Friday morning a couple of friends are meeting me at my house and we're taking the scenic route to Laughlin: 350 miles, with lunch in Lake Havasu before the final leg. I'm looking forward to it. Escapism is part of the appeal, and two-wheel therapy is in there, too, and good company won't hurt...
Here's to riding free!
Still, there is a freedom I find when riding; there is something therapeutic about rolling down the road with wind in my face and sun on my skin and the rumble of the engine beneath. There is something profoundly empowering about twisting the throttle and accelerating away; away from my mundane existence, away from my worries and frets, away from my frustrations and anxieties, away.
There's more to two-wheel therapy than escape, however. Sometimes it's what's in the rearview, and sometimes it's what's in front of you, but often, often, it's the ride itself that is therapeutic. It's a powerful sensory experience: wind against your face, sun on your skin, the sounds of the engine and the tires on the road, the smells of the countryside, the warmth, the chill, the sights—all these things stimulate senses too-often anesthetized by our modern mediated lifestyle.
And riding is empowering...in a world where so many of us are so often at the mercy of forces outside our control that a sense of empowerment is precious and rare.
Physics may play a part in it; even a heavy pig like my bike—810 pounds plus rider—has a better power-weight ratio than all but the most extravagant of automobiles. Occasionally some young driver in a souped-up import will pull up next to me at a light and want to "race." I don't do that—I have nothing to prove—yet ironically my normal, measured acceleration is almost always better than said import can manage with the accelerator pedal floored.
Acceleration equals Force divided by mass (A = F/m), so for a given Force (engine power), the lower the mass the higher the acceleration. My motorcycle weights a third or less what even that little import weighs, and my engine produces a great deal of power (Force) for its size, so the little import really doesn't have a chance.While the import's engine is whining away and the driver is frantically rowing through gears, I smoothly, effortlessly just accelerate away.Power like that can be intoxicating; that's why some riders do foolish things (and get themselves messily killed). I find it liberating, and I think many other bikers do, too. And yes, sometimes it's very satisfying to put other motorists in the rear-view, as well.
Maybe you're wondering what stimulated this blog. It isn't a subject I write on, really—it isn't really about the traumas in my life or the epiphanies that excite me—so what brought this on? Fair question...
This morning my Harley goes in for its 35,000 mile service, and while it's in I'm having a different pair of handlebars installed. All this is in preparation for next weekend's Laughlin River Run, an event that draws bikers from across the country. I've never been—let's face it, I'm not a "typical biker," not into drinking and dancing and breaking the rules for the sake of breaking the rules, so it's a bit of a foreign land to me—but with recent traumas (ah-HA!) and their effects on my schedule, I found myself free and some friends were attending, so I figured, "Why not?" Something new, something different, something outside my comfort zone, might be just what the doctor ordered.
So Friday morning a couple of friends are meeting me at my house and we're taking the scenic route to Laughlin: 350 miles, with lunch in Lake Havasu before the final leg. I'm looking forward to it. Escapism is part of the appeal, and two-wheel therapy is in there, too, and good company won't hurt...
Here's to riding free!
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Worry Wart
(Okay, it's not a wart...it's a mole.)
It's a mole that my tattoo artist noticed on my back a couple of weeks ago. He said, "I'm not saying it's cancer, and I'm not saying it's not; I'm just saying it looks different than the other freckles on your back...it's got texture. You should get it checked out; I won't be putting any ink over it today."
Last week the doctor excised it and sent it out for biopsy. I'm due back in her office on April 26 to have the sutures removed, by which time she should also have the biopsy results.
I'm not all that worried. I'm concerned, but only in my most hypochondriacal moments am I more than a little anxious. Even if it is cancer, chances are it'll be easily treated and not too serious. And if it is serious, there's not much I can do about it until we know. I'm not borrowing trouble over a mole.
I wish I could say the same about other eventualities...
My post a few days ago, Leap Before You Look, is me grappling with my penchant for worry. Intellectually, I appreciate the importance of taking chances and the value of risk, but emotionally I am risk-averse. I tend to want to hedge my bets, cover my bases, play it safe.
The problem is, when I refuse to gamble on anything, I make it impossible to win anything. Sure, I can't lose, but neither can I win, and some things can only be won, never earned. If those things—call them the prizes in life—are things I want, then I have to be ready to risk and the greater the prize, the greater the risk. And as with my mystery mole, the outcome can't be determined in advance.
It seems everyone, or almost everyone, is encouraging me to leap, to jump, to "go for it." I hear it from my young, reckless friends. I hear it from my more seasoned, cautious friends. The voice of my heart clamors for it, what I used to call "the voice of reason" argues in its favor, and even Facebook's "Message From God" app told me this morning, "There is no failing, only results. Be courageous and push yourself to new heights."
I get it. I get it! I'm ready to leap, and leave worry for the warts (okay, moles.)
It's a mole that my tattoo artist noticed on my back a couple of weeks ago. He said, "I'm not saying it's cancer, and I'm not saying it's not; I'm just saying it looks different than the other freckles on your back...it's got texture. You should get it checked out; I won't be putting any ink over it today."
Last week the doctor excised it and sent it out for biopsy. I'm due back in her office on April 26 to have the sutures removed, by which time she should also have the biopsy results.
I'm not all that worried. I'm concerned, but only in my most hypochondriacal moments am I more than a little anxious. Even if it is cancer, chances are it'll be easily treated and not too serious. And if it is serious, there's not much I can do about it until we know. I'm not borrowing trouble over a mole.
I wish I could say the same about other eventualities...
My post a few days ago, Leap Before You Look, is me grappling with my penchant for worry. Intellectually, I appreciate the importance of taking chances and the value of risk, but emotionally I am risk-averse. I tend to want to hedge my bets, cover my bases, play it safe.
The problem is, when I refuse to gamble on anything, I make it impossible to win anything. Sure, I can't lose, but neither can I win, and some things can only be won, never earned. If those things—call them the prizes in life—are things I want, then I have to be ready to risk and the greater the prize, the greater the risk. And as with my mystery mole, the outcome can't be determined in advance.
It seems everyone, or almost everyone, is encouraging me to leap, to jump, to "go for it." I hear it from my young, reckless friends. I hear it from my more seasoned, cautious friends. The voice of my heart clamors for it, what I used to call "the voice of reason" argues in its favor, and even Facebook's "Message From God" app told me this morning, "There is no failing, only results. Be courageous and push yourself to new heights."
I get it. I get it! I'm ready to leap, and leave worry for the warts (okay, moles.)
Monday, April 16, 2012
Leap Before You Look
I love it when the world changes right before my eyes.
It isn't that the world itself literally changes; rather, my perception of it changes radically thanks to a new thought or (more commonly) thanks to something someone else says. It's like the scales drop from my eyes and I see exciting new possibilities highlighted in neon light where before I saw only the everyday world of my limited imagination.
That happened again just recently.
I crave a change—my life is currently literally unsatisfactory (and I know what "literally" really means) and I'm trying to change it—but I've tended to measure my efforts against the rulers of 'practicality' and 'common sense,' minimizing risk and 'being responsible,' and today I find myself wondering, "What the hell was I thinking?"
I'm not advocating irresponsibility, just for the record—I think it's important to take responsibility for the consequences of one's actions, and I think that it is important to "be responsible," whatever that really means—but I am suggesting that I got caught up in a false and artificial construct of what constitutes "being responsible." I somehow equated responsibility with conformity—to social norms, to family history, to other people's expectations—when that isn't it at all.
I also think that for me, 'practicality' and 'common sense' and 'being responsible' made handy masks for the real issue: fear.
I was (and am) afraid. Afraid of the unknown, afraid of taking chances, afraid of the future, afraid.
I was (and am) afraid. Afraid of the unknown, afraid of taking chances, afraid of the future, afraid.
But I am unwilling to be ruled by fear. I remember the Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear (from Frank Herbert's Dune series):
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
Don't misunderstand me; I know the value of fear—as teacher and survival mechanism—and would never want to be fearless. Rather I want to be courageous, facing my fear and letting passion and judgment temper it. Fear gets a vote, but shouldn't get a veto, if you see what I mean.
According to "conventional wisdom," you should always look before you leap. It's reckless to jump when you don't know what you're jumping into...there may be jagged rocks just beneath the surface or a tiger hidden in the tall grass. And all that is true.
But "conventional wisdom" will quite likely lead to a conventional existence, and I crave something different—something astounding—rather than something conventional.
So perhaps-just maybe-to get what I want and be who I want, I should leap before I look.
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