The following was written as part of a correspondence with a friend who lives far away, but I thought there were enough universal ideas in it that I might publish it. I left in enough to keep the basic structure, but took out some to protect the innocent.
I have a hard time dealing with other people’s pain.
I have no idea how to approach it because I can’t afford to internalize it, emotionally. It’s too painful and nine times out of ten there’s nothing I can do about it. But allow me at least do the polite, normal, civil thing and express my dismay about the news of your daughter. I truly hope it’s all fixable, but can’t even imagine how stressful that must be. Especially when it’s your child, and she’s a mother herself.
I’m less worried about dying or being sick myself but I’m terrified about my wife or mother getting sick. I’m pretty self-involved, so long-term caregiver is not naturally in my wheelhouse. I never bought into the old trope that God only gives us what we can handle, because I’ve studied human history and most of it is horrifically brutal. I do, however, believe that humans are naturally quite resilient. Like cockroaches.
For many years, over three decades in fact, I commuted 90 minutes, one way, to work. Upon hearing this, people would often say, “Oh, I could never do that.”
Sure you could. If that’s what needed doing, that’s what you would do. I hate when people say shit like that. What they mean to say is “I would not care for that.” Welcome to life, where we don’t always get what we want. What’s the old joke? If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans?
I don’t miss Medium. I did it for a time. It was fun, then it wasn’t. I’m over it.
I think that once you figure out how to get off the hamster wheel you walk away realizing you were never really going anywhere. This is probably quite true of many things in life, and in my experience, it’s definitely been true of social media and other online platforms that are designed for maximum engagement. It’s like the cycle of alcohol for me. If I’m not drinking, I don’t need it, but I think I like the idea of it, so then I tell myself I’ll try it again and suddenly I’m just sick and tired again. At some point, I suppose, I’ll give myself a break and stop running headfirst into the brick wall, intentionally.
A word about optimism, since you brought it up. As I’m sure you’ve aware, Americans seem predisposed to optimism, at least more so than many other cultures around the world. We just assume most things will work out because historically, most things have. You might also call that delusion, or hubris, but I think I our innocent optimism has served us well for quite some time, though that time may be coming to an end. We’re like a big old Labrador or Golden Retriever; just too dumb to know we‘re being fooled.
Where’s the ball? Where’s the ball? Good boy!
I believe all humans are wildly optimistic. It’s evolutionary. If we were actually conscious of the many ways we could die in any given day, we would be paralyzed by fear. The millions of cars on an American highways, driving at excessive speeds, directly at one another, a mere feet apart, is an insane thing to behold. It’s a wonder everyone isn’t dead already.
Then someone like you goes off and rides a motorcycle, which is little more than an exciting organ donor processing plant. Your ability to rationalize this is delusional because you underestimate the chances that something can go wrong, because in your experience, they usually don’t.
We believe we are the exception to every rule.
I am more optimistic than some, and more cynical than others. I’m cynical in the way that I fully grasp the many ways in which things go wrong. I just don’t assume they will. I’m not a pessimist. This is what an atheist is to me. Being sure there is no god is the same as having complete faith that there is one and your god just happens to be the one you grew up with. I’m much more comfortable with the knowledge that no one really knows anything. We’re all just smart monkeys with clever machines.
I believe we get through most days in one piece, until we don’t. That, we consider a tragedy, so logically, it must not have been inevitable, but is actually almost always rather surprising. Something was gonna get us, to be sure, but we don’t think it will be today. We all don’t make it to old age. Just like sea turtles don’t all live to be 100. Some of them never even make it to the water’s edge.
I have a similar theory about celebrities, actors, musicians, and comedians who become famous and successful and recall that they just never gave up hope on their dreams. Delusional as we are, we take that to mean that persistence and drive will eventually result in success, but that’s a fallacy as well. It’s a matter of luck, more than anything, and if you quit you’ll never succeed, but there’s nothing guaranteeing that if you don’t quit you will succeed. It’s still mostly luck. It’s also true that the harder you work at something, the luckier you become, because you put yourself in a better position to succeed. The point to me, is that we only ever hear about the ones who made it. We don’t hear about, let alone celebrate, the ones who got picked off on the beach.
I believe happiness is a byproduct of acceptance rather than success. We can choose to be happy. It is not a reward for luck, success, or money, and certainly not fame. I don’t even think it’s a matter of lowering expectations, but of recognizing when we are fortunate and appreciating the right things. We are told to chase so many things that will never bring us happiness. Joy is different and is more related to happenstance, but joy has always been fleeting, so we don’t expect it.
It’s a beautiful morning here. Sunny and slightly cool with low humidity. It could be stifling and sticky this time of year, but it’s not today. This pleases me immensely and I had nothing to do with it, so there’s a little thrill there. It will be gone tomorrow, most likely, so today I will try to embrace it and enjoy it despite the fact that I have a coworker who vexes me, or that my president is a tacky, two-bit hustler with authoritarian aspirations, or that AI is likely to destroy the global economy, or at least the fresh water supply.
After Trump was elected a second time, a thing I didn’t think was possible the first time, I decided that I could no longer agonize over things that were outside of my control. I vote and I’ll do what little I can, but social media made us believe that if we complained about the things we thought were important to everyone we knew, we could somehow make a difference. I no longer believe this.
I have decided to attempt intentional happiness, instead; to be thoughtful about how I spend my days, and this one precious life I’ve been gifted. I won the universal lottery and am alive on the only planet capable of sustaining life, at a time in history where I have it rather easy. I’m not struggling for survival against the elements. I’m not being actively pursued by some enormous bear or colossal lizard. I’m not in a war zone or being hunted by a genocidal maniac. My problems are mostly minor and usually self-inflicted. Feeling bad about the things I don’t have, rather than the incredible wealth I do have, seems egregiously petulant and small. I believe changing the world starts with yourself and that if I can figure out a way to be happy, others will see a little light in all that darkness.
I’m not always successful at this and can fall into the trap of envy and self-importance, but I try to recognize it earlier and disabuse myself of these lies. I do not believe these things will bring me happiness, only a sense of superiority and control, which I crave. Happiness? No. Power? Yes. With power comes responsibility and neither are paths to happiness.
There’s a scene in the movie “American Beauty” where Kevin Spacey pulls up to the drive-thru window at a fast foot restaurant, sees a help wanted sign, and tells her girl at the window that he would like to fill out an application.
“There’s no openings for managers,” she tells him.
“Good,” he says. “I’m looking for the least amount of responsibility possible.”
I currently have four clients, all of whom I enjoy, not all of which I am paid properly for, and unequally at that. Two of the clients are underpaying me, one is overpaying me, and the fourth I’m ambivalent about. It all has the power to make me anxious. I have high hopes that of the two who are underpaying me, they will turn into more profitable accounts, and the one who is overpaying me, will eventually even out. With increased pay comes increased responsibility, power, and authority, which simply means more anxiety and stress. Why do I ever think I want more money? In the past it was because I wanted the lifestyle. I wanted prestigious things that made me feel superior, but that’s a hamster wheel for sure.
Now, I just want the relative security that a flush bank account provides. The ability to throw money at problems is a severely undervalued commodity. The nice thing is, I do currently seem to being paid well enough to do good work by people who appreciate my contributions. I’m not sure you can ask for a lot more than that; not with a straight face or a good conscience, anyway.
Tell me more about your back road theory. Why are we always so afraid of being lost, or so sure of where we are going? As if any of us have any idea.
There’s a scene in the movie “State and Main,” by David Mamet, about a movie crew descending on a small town called in Vermont. William H Macy, who plays the director, is on the phone with the production office and tells them, “Send everyone to Waterford, Vermont. Where is that? That’s where it is. Get a bigger map.”