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An Incomplete Life
September 15th, 2008 | Stephen Bailey
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I realized something recently. My life has been a somewhat embarrassing series of incompletions. I know it sounds like this post is going to be all deep and whatnot. Well, it might be because ever since the concept of The Longest Trip was hatched over a plate of blood sausage in a French bistro in Manhattan, I've been struggling to figure out a theme for my 'trip'.
My clever use of single quotes should serve as a hint that this 'trip' of mine is not going to be (entirely) about traveling.
I started to wonder about my (and my ego's) place in the world. Am I living the life I intended. Well, no. One of the things that I hate about this type of introspective thought is how it forces me to think of things that are maybe not so pleasant. According to the myriad of self-help 'gurus' out there, the first thing I'm supposed to do is make a list of all the things about myself I need to change.
Ugh! OK, seriously not pleasant. What next?
Someone tried to tell me the other day that the fact that I have great friends, family, a good job and a loyal group of readers, I should be content. The truth is, I'm not. Is that wrong? I'm not whining about it, I'm simply asking should that level of simple contentment be enough? Because I admit it, I want more. The problem is, I don't know what 'more' means. Thus my conundrum.
Countdown to the deep philosophical mind journey. Seatbelts on.
Of course that raises another question. How can I be so sure that mine has been an incomplete life if I don't even know what it would take to make it complete? Well, I really can't be sure. The best I can do is to look back on those moments in my life that fell short of completion in the hope of (cliché alert) learning something.
So … incompletions. Despite it's common use in American football, it's a word that is not recognized by my spellcheck but is far too familiar to me (and I don't even like football). When faced with the choice to press on thru difficulties to an unsure result of possible immense satisfaction or horrible failure or quit and take the easier, less hazardous path … I'd always quit. Or at the very least, put off facing those difficulties until they just went away or were forgotten.
There were fleeting moments in my life where I would drum up the courage to throw myself into the fire of a challenge. I'd work at it for a while, sometimes years, until I became very, very good and comfortable at it. Then I would come to the inevitable crossroads of moving forward or quitting. Since moving forward often meant facing new, more difficult challenges with new unsure results, I would eventually quit.
This is what we in the 'deep philosophical mind journey' game call a vicious cycle (take notes kids, there may be a quiz).
Having turned 42 a few days ago, I realized that the time to act is upon me … again. As it was when I ran from baseball as a kid. When I ran from college as a teen. When I ran from sound design as a young adult. As I ran from music as a slightly older adult. On and on. But this time I am not running.
Cue the sappy 80s power ballad.
This is when I trade up from procrastinator to planner. From quitter to doer. Doer? Oh man. There has to be a cooler word for it than doer. OK, an addendum to my main journey … find a better word than doer.
Related Topics: career, life, philosophy
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Stephen Bailey | Comments Off
An Incomplete Life
(via Facebook, MySpace, Digg, email and more)
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