What do all the greatest rulers, the wealthiest elites, and the most powerful conquerors throughout world history have in common? They’re all dead. Even the rich and famous of modern times are going to end up in the same place – in the ground. We take nothing with us when we die except for our memories, who we become as people – individually and collectively. What really matters the most at the end of my life isn’t going to be which fancy restaurants I went to, which kind of car I drove, or even how many friends and followers I had on social media. What really matters to me the most now isn’t going to fancy restaurants or driving an expensive car, though I do appreciate driving a comfortable car since I spend so much time there. I also care about the people with whom I interact on social media, not so I can be famous or popular but because I need the mutual edification. Cyberspace is the only place I have for connection at the moment, so, although it’s absolutely not the most ideal, I’ll go with it and make the best use of it as I can. What really matters the most to me now is family, friends, fitness, and fun. I want to have fun. I want to enjoy my life and the people that I have in my life. These matters are what matters. Fame and fortune are fine and fleeting, and they come with a much higher price tag than most would ever suspect.

Is this as good as it gets? Yes and no. Every major goal I’ve ever accomplished has been anticlimactic at the time. My educational goals have been met amongst personal illness, a national recession, and a global pandemic. I doubt there will be an actual zombie apocalypse when I graduate with my doctorate, but I’m still going to be prepared. I finished a marathon in the last decade with no fanfare; it was accompanied only by an emotional breakdown when I wasn’t able to find my car in the parking garage afterward. Even minor goals have seemed irrelevant at the time: finishing a painting, buying a new car, self-publishing four poetry books. In themselves, these things account for nothing. My hopes of feeling complete with each task I complete amount to nothing. Still, I’m tempted to think that as soon as I…once I…when I…then I…nope…not going to happen. Get over yourself, Chris. Where I am right now is as good as life gets, and there is room for improvement.

Why not me? As I watched introduction videos for a class I’m auditing at my alma mater, I began to wonder why these professors were hired at this particular institution. One actually helped found the school, and the other has been teaching there for over a decade. They each went straight to seminary from high school. They each have a PhD from a respected educational establishment. They also pair well together as a straight guy-funny guy combo, even though the “straight guy” is female. There’s nothing stopping me from accomplishing the goals I have for my life. I could teach at a seminary once I finish my doctorate. I could write a book. I could work at any number of jobs in full-time ministry. My massive inferiority complex is really the only thing getting in the way; that and my laundry list of physical and mental disorders. I feel so much pressure to accomplish something with my life, to prove that I’m not a waste of space, to produce more than I consume, to add value to the world. Why is it so hard to simply relax and enjoy myself? The idol of progress is never satisfied.

Should I do it anyway? Force it? Posting on my new blog every day is a good goal, but some days my brain isn’t functioning well enough to string two sentences together. I don’t want to write crap, and I don’t want to recycle old material that was written years ago, or even months ago. This blog is for now. It’s my way of expressing where I am now, what I’m going through now, this season of my life now. Sure, I’ll have references to the past for context. I didn’t get what I wanted in life, and that loss can leave me feeling bitter and sour at times. I still often wonder if there’s anything I can do now to get myself from here to there, to attain the life I’ve always wanted in the second half of my journey since I somehow missed the mark with every attempt over the past thirty years. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but I think I’ve finally figured out where I keep going wrong. Here! There is no “there” to get to. No matter where I go, no matter what I do, I’m always only ever here. If I want to experience the life of my dreams, I need to invite it and allow it into the present moment. Now is the time to sing and dance and write and play. If I don’t do it now, I never will. Here is the place and the time to live my dreams because now is only ever in this moment, and here is the only time I ever have.

Do I enjoy being miserable? I think so. I think I thrive on it. I think it makes me feel more alive. When I’m comfortable and content, something inside of me dies a little. I can’t handle the stability. I can’t tolerate the sameness of everyday, ordinary life. I need to keep pushing against the edge. I need challenge and adventure. I need the constant stimulation of something new, something different. I need gravity. Astronauts’ muscles atrophy without gravity. They can only stay in space for so long or they will die. Bees die when they’re taken to space because they need air resistance to flap their wings. Without resistance, they die. Without resistance, we die. We may not always enjoy misery as it comes into our lives, but we need it. We need mental and emotional gravity as much as we need physical gravity. Everyone has their own tolerance level, and each has their own measure of faith. We each experience life’s gravity in its fullness as we grow stronger in equal proportion with our ability to exercise grace.

Now what? I’m stressed. I’m trying to breathe. Everything’s going to be okay. My old coping skills don’t work. Binging on anything: junk food, alcohol, screen time, theater of the mind (AKA sexual fantasies), only makes things worse. I’ve learned that the hard way: experience. The last thing I need right now is to be throwing up, to be lying in bed wishing I could throw up, or to be lying in bed wishing I could be put out of my misery permanently. My new coping skills: breathing (trying to calm my nervous system with slow, deep, steady breathing), “dancing” (slowly moving, waving, stretching my body parts to expend excessive nervous energy), and happy future tripping (trying to come up with creative ways in which I can be a blessing to someone else). I obviously need a lot more practice with these coping skills. I feel like a toddler just beginning to learn how to walk. I stumble, fall, and wobble all over the place. And I need constant reminders to even try walking instead of merely scooting along the floor or remaining stuck in place like a beached whale. Now, I walk, or attempt to, one wobbly, feeble, baby step at a time.

So, what am I going to do about it? My life circumstances are hardly ideal. I could say as much on any given day of my life with only varied degrees of euphemistic undertones. Getting kicked out of my own home – high degree. Needing to side-step dog poop on the stairs out of my condo in the city – low degree. Bluntly put, life circumstances are rarely, if ever, ideal. If you’re looking for something to complain about, you don’t have to look very far. Now that I’ve stated the obvious, it’s time for me to choose. I can freak out. I can shut down. Those are pretty much my old standard operating procedures. However, I can also choose to change my mental state by expressing what I’m grateful for and doing something that brings me joy. Shutting down is so much more comfortable and freaking out is way more familiar. It hurts to push myself to take a different path. It’s easy to wish that I could be happy right now; it’s hard to actually do something about it.

Is witness enough? It’s not my job to save the world. Thank God, that job has already been done. I don’t have to come up with some fantastical idea that’s going to end world hunger. I believe it could be done if people in positions of national leadership would simply cooperate and follow nature’s lead in agricultural production instead cursing nature with mass industrial production, but I couldn’t even get my four children to cooperate at dinner time in my own house, so I definitely don’t hold out much hope for selfish, greedy, imperialistic adults. So, if nothing world-changing is expected of me, then I don’t have to actually do anything. And, even if I could do something huge, something that could alter the course of human history, something awesome and noteworthy, it really wouldn’t matter. Human beings are here on this planet for one reason: to live. We live, we learn, we love, we experience life. We bear witness to the life we experience and to life as experienced by others. Everything else is just history.

What the heck is the point anyway? It’s thoroughly disturbing how often I catch myself asking for more purpose, for more meaning. Like it’s not enough to be alive and breathing. Thursdays used to be my favorite day of the week. When my elder two girls were little, their father and I would both take the day off from work, drop the girls at daycare, and head to Kentucky Kingdom. There were no lines in the middle of a weekday, and we would literally run from the roller-coaster exit to entrance to jump back on the next ride. You couldn’t get me near a roller-coaster when I was little, but as I got older, I began to look forward to the rapid drops, sharp turns, even the spiraling upside-down, okay, especially the spiraling upside-down. Maybe the roller-coaster metaphor doesn’t work for you, but something does: a dance, a game, a theatrical presentation. However you frame it, life is meant to be enjoyed, sharp turns and all.

Am I doing for me what I need to be doing for me? It’s so much easier to sit around and make excuses about not knowing what to do or how to do it. It’s a lot more fun to complain about someone else. It’s a lot less painful to blame something else, anything else. What I need to do is to put my big-girl panties on, roll up my sleeves, and get to work. I have plenty of things to focus on that I can be doing right now; I don’t have time to do nothing but sleep and feel sorry for myself. Regardless of my external circumstances or current crisis, I still need to eat well and exercise. I need to do my reading and writing, and I desperately need to shower. Everything else will work itself out if I just take one day at a time and do what I need to do to take care of myself right here, right now. I will get through this. I will prevail. Everything will be okay, and, more than that, everything can be really great if I stay strong and carry on.