I have to do this now, before everything else becomes ‘too important’ again, though – including making money sooner rather than later.
But in my experience we, the people, forget so often to ask them ourselves: What makes me really happy? What I do now? The way I do what I do now to get something better in the future? Or … ?
We forget. And run in all sorts of directions for peace, happiness and joy, even if we are so often missing them. Chasing wild geese … like that stressful drive up the career ladder or whatever it is that makes no sense to strive for to become happy in the future, if it is done in such a way or if it is for such a goal so as to make us miserable for a long time in the present.
We do have to accept the difficult birth of Jay and move on. And to some degree we already have.
We both know it is necessary. We just have some pain left that is difficult to keep inside or find a place for. Some painful memories.
We have to accept those, not feel ashamed.
The question is how? Will a dream that may or may not have been precognitive about the experience help? Will it help if I tell Char about it? Will she even believe it?
I don’t know.
I just know I have to get on with my work today, and then later with caring for Jay. That is what is necessary right now. I will have to let this go. That is the right thing. For now.
And then return to it later. For a while. Try to learn to keep it in me a bit more or maybe find a better place for it.
That is also the right thing.
But more often than not, for my own life at least, I’ve found that I need to balance passion, purpose and profit – not try to force it into one place or activity. One thing I do is what I am most passionate about, work-wise. Another contains the most purpose. Another the most profit. Each contain a little bit of the other, but they are separate.
Will it change in the future? I want it to, honestly. But for now it seems like I have to strike a balance, and learn to strike it better every day. Like most other humans.
Death reveals to us the folly of our complacency.
When we are confronted with some death or other, especially a death of someone close to us, we are stripped naked – even if only for a short while.
We are reminded of something unpleasant (not only our own physical mortality). We don’t like to be reminded. Hence we try to forget as often as possible, as quickly as possible and … ‘move on’.
I’m as guilty of that as the next man!
What we want to forget ASAP is:
That we think it is ‘all right’ to live on forever in a certain way — or at least for a very, Very, VERY long time.
That it is all right not to change.
That it is all right to always be the same.
It is not all right.
Life is meant to be good, despite the obvious times when we have to accept is is not.
Why is it meant to be that way? Because we choose it, dammit.
I feel that life should be lived as if you are handed a book with certain chapters already inserted. They have only headlines: birth, youth, marriage, family, work, middle-age, life crisis 1, life crisis 2, old age, death. Or a combination similar to that.
Life should not be a book with pages already filled with both birth-youth-marriage-family-success-at-work headlines and many notes or even passages about how each chapter will play out in advance. And then the sequel, old age an death and the spin-off – life crises – they are all shelved somewhere.
You know those books are in the library, but you don’t really want to have a look in them, so you pretend they don’t exist.
I want to pretend they exist. I want to pretend I have the full story in one book, with fixed headlines but no filler, because work no. 3 might make me happier than work no. 1 which I originally imagined. I want to be open, but also aware that I have a duty. I have a duty to fill out all the chapters, string them together into a story that makes sense and gives me comfort.
We have to change the story about the brutal birth of Jay, because we need stories to be beautiful and about more than what came out of it – Jay. We need them for our sake to be more than just the goal. We need them to be about the entire journey, too. But the journey is disjointed. Perfect sailing, then storm and drowning and then reaching the island after all does not match.
Something needs to tie it together, in a new way. Something …
But it takes time to find that something. As it should.
Fortunately, we can count on the best help to find a new story about the brutal journey to becoming parents.
And as we get to know Jay well, it will all become clearer.
There are still, and obviously should still be, outside goals:
Things I want to achieve.
They are fuzzy now. So I have to sail on to see them clearer.
And this blog is an exploration of that journey, to find a balance. And even if I don’t succeed, and in a way I believe I never truly will, then it will have done what I came here for:
It will have helped you to find your own balance.
A ‘you’ somewhere out there, across the seas.
So what if it’s annoying that somebody hid the good parts of life? The knowledge of how to make it work better? In so many respects?
Isn’t it the best to believe that there IS something hidden that can be found? Always?
At the very least, I’ll have to get an absolutely clear understanding of what and how much I need when it comes to money, passion and purpose. That I don’t feel I have now.
There can be no more vagueness, or just waiting around for these things to become crystal clear.
And when they have, that is half the battle won.
Maybe we are both adrift. But being adrift together can and should and will help.
Two pairs of eyes can better spot the light of land, in the dark.
It’s one of the nice things about middle-age. About age in general – if it hasn’t killed you.
You can be the rock for someone else. In so many ways …
Who are you a rock for?