A fluff warning:
Today’s post is not about marketing or copywriting. It’s about vague life fluff. If that don’t interest you, I can understand.
But if it doesn’t turn you off, then let me set up the fluff with a poetic scene I saw this morning:
I was walking along a wooded path that runs through the middle of my home town.
A guy and his large dog were there. The guy let the dog off the leash, and the dog started gamboling about.
A second guy passed by on a bike, biking slowly up the gravel path.
The dog saw the biker, and he saw the chance for some fun. So he started running alongside the biker, barking loudly.
The biker was clearly not comfortable with this large dog’s attention. He kept on biking carefully and tried to stay away from the dog.
Of course, this meant the dog kept running along the bike happily and barking his warm dog heart out.
Meanwhile, the owner was yelling at the dog to come back. This was not working. So the owner started running after the biker and the dog.
And the whole threesome turned into a slowly moving procession, each keeping a perfect distance from the other two, as they made their way up the hill:
The biker, nervously trying to stay away from the dog… the dog, alongside the bike, barking and wagging his tail… and the owner, cursing and running at just enough pace to not lose the dog and the bike.
This made me think of another scene, one that happened a couple of months ago:
I was sitting on a bench at a Crossfit-style gym at the top of a fancy hotel in a cool city of a country halfway across the world. It was the middle of the morning, and the gym was empty, because besides me, most people have jobs to go to instead of being free to go for a workout.
I was taking a break between two exercises. And I was sitting on a bench, completely lost inside my head, thinking furiously about plans and projects I have for the mid-term future.
I was restless and unhappy. There’s so much to do, I thought, and I’m doing it so slowly. But once I manage to do it all, life will be sweet. Maybe in six months’ time.
And suddenly, I had an est-like realization.
“This is it,” I thought. “This is all there is. What exactly will be different in six months’ time?”
“The world around me will be more or less ok, depending on the moment, just as it is today. And I will still be lost in my head, thinking about the future and how much better things will be in another six months. Regardless of what I’ve accomplished in the meantime.”
You might think this sounds depressing, but for me it was good. I keep coming back to it, whenever I find myself getting anxious and wound up. Almost always, it’s because some part of me is barking at the future, and at all the stuff I haven’t done yet but want to do.
“This is it,” I repeat the line from Semi-Tough. “This is all there is.” And it makes me feel better.
The guy on the bike eventually stopped. This made the dog stop as well. The owner caught up to the two of them, leashed the dog, and then they were all off on their way again.
The barking disappeared. The biker and the owner both looked relieved. And the dog soon focused his enthusiasm and energy elsewhere.
The end. Except, if you want more content that’s less like this, you might want to sign up to my email newsletter. Usually it’s more cynical and exploitative, but I do occasionally write about “What am I doing with my life” moments like this.
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