2023 was a year of reflection for me. Creative production was somewhat limited as those of you that subscribe to this newsletter have seen. There was pretty significant disruption in my life. And as with all disruption, opportunities to sit a bit in observation abound. Before I go into full “let’s circle back after the New Year” mode, I thought I’d share some things from a year of change.
The first is about work. At this time last year I was in the throes of career upheaval. The path I’d been pursuing in tech since my departure from military life seemed to be coming to a conclusion. Or at least a fork in the road. Having pushed through to the other side, still living and viable in my vocation, I’ve got news to report. First, all is well. Everything worked out. It usually does. Even more so if you’re willing to expand the idea of what “worked out” means. I chose to expand it greatly. Like the angel told Paul, the ship wasn’t going to make it…but he would.
We’re the point, not the ship. If we cling to it too tightly, we’ll ride it right down to the bottom. And so I chose to let go a bit. And I was rewarded.
In crisis the world shrinks. And we forget so many things about ourselves. We see the world in a linear progression; a path to tumble down from. Which is of course not real. It’s an abstract construct of a reality that wouldn’t recognize that description at all if we hadn’t made it up. There is no path to our work. No organized way. All there is is people and what they can do as shown by what they have done already. And the task is to be honest with yourself about what it is that you do to move this world forward; to impact the lives of other people in some way. And to do it. All else is window dressing.
The second is about life. More specifically, its end. My father passed away this summer. His passing brought me to a profound insight not unrelated to my first one. In the moments of our lives, we often lack context about what it is that we’re doing. The task of the task consumes us. And we rarely zoom back out to see the amazing phenomenon that is our existence. We hold the day to day, moment to moment, in the front of our minds. And not much else. We are focused on the brush strokes, not the canvas. And so we miss the grand masterpiece that is life.
I had a complicated relationship with my father. And much of my mental energy went into the day to day of managing the tasks and emotions that went into that aspect of it. And most (all?) of our relationships and important endeavors are like that. They’re odd treasures wrapped in the tedious and mundane. But one day someone is going to be looking through an old shoebox of photos to find the ones to use in your memorial slideshow and they’re going to realize, without question, what an amazing thing it was to live that life; any life. Sure some more than others. But the range of great to meh is the last few tics on the end of the scale of miracle. It’s all miracle. Yet we spend too much mental energy on things that just don’t matter. And we pass through with the miracle playing unnoticed in the background.
If you combine those two thoughts you land on an important thought. That life is amazing and often long. And we have near endless opportunities to make our mark on the world around us that are entirely independent from the failures or successes of the past. We are our worst days and our best days and everything in between. But more than anything we’re miracles.
The Deadwood anti-hero poet Al Swearengin said it best.
“Pain or damage don’t end the world, or despair, or fuckin’ beatings. The world ends when you’re dead. Until then, you got more punishment in store. Stand it like a man — and give some back.”
If you can fit St. Paul and Al Swearingin into 800 words, you’ve done a good day’s work.
Happy Holidays. And thanks for following this year. The world is likely to throw some hard times at us in the near future. Some of our core beliefs and securities are going to be challenged. I hope that we can remember that human life is precious. And that a world with less suffering is a better world. And that ends alone don’t justify means.
Onward we go…
Your essay so eloquently expresses the way I've changed my journey over the last 3 years since my father's passing. I admire your ability to reflect and adjust.
Sean, I just finished reading Dr. Peter Attia’s book “Outlive“… Your piece reminded me of a chapter that I’ve listened to, and read a couple times, his last chapter on emotional health. He says you want to be remembered not for your Résumé CV but for your Eulogy CV. And we should all keep an eye on that no matter what trials and tribulations we go through. Your reference to people looking through your shoebox of favorite photos is a read-across to what Dr. Attia says in his book. Merry Christmas! And Happy Holidays to you and your family. Dave Fulwider