What would you hope would be the mark you left? My grandmother was a really important influence in my life, and when she passed many years ago, I told my cousins, “ I was her favorite.” The 37 grandchildren at the wake all disagreed and said that they were the favorite. I am convinced that the five other grandkids who didn’t make it to the celebration of life would say the same. Imagine that influence as your legacy.

Maybe, you come from a much smaller tree and/or are not connected to a clan; how would you be remembered? Do you want friends and colleagues to mourn your passing or cheer the amazing things you did?

Is your vocation your mark? Does the work or the way you do it have a purpose bigger than profit, or is profit the way you resonate from the grave?

If you have 36 hours left, would you start something new, finish something undone, repair something broken, or mope about the misfortune?

I am inordinately comfortable with death being part of life and am not interested in the quantity of living when traded for quality of life. I know I have a best-before date. I just don’t have it printed on my forehead (that would make everything so much simpler).

My pathological quest to leave an imprint stems from a theological mythology that I no longer prescribe to, but the baggage of meaning is still strong. My ego is strong and leaning toward a delusion of grandeur, so I strive to make a big provocative dent in the fabric of time and relationships.

My desired legacy is that I am remembered as a curious, counter-certainty, creator who consistently challenged the comfortable way and chased new ways to live in community together.

B

In the three years that I have been away from this blog, I experienced much of the same stress and distress that most people in the world lived through. The lockdowns and restrictions curbed social interaction, dampened enthusiasm, reduced motivation, and limited adventure. Sure, we made an effort to spend more time outside and were largely successful. We hiked and snowshoed, biked, and walked. We saw wildlife and wildflowers. I had my fill of Google Meets, MS Meeting, and Zoom and was exhausted by the polarity of opinion and the rigor of isolation.

And then, things reopened and like someone who has been doing a dry February for 2 years or a fast for two months, I overindulged and overdid the return to what I thought I missed. We partied like it was 2019 – good food, good drinks, and good times. But I wasn’t filled. There was a void that didn’t get filled.

I realized that I was starved for dialogue and discussion and debate. I wanted dissent around topics other than personal liberty or personal choice. I craved philosophy and practice in an unequal measure. I needed to be challenged for something meaningful, not how I chose to be vaccinated or why I made that choice but rather a meaningful examination of the culture and community and why in the midst of polarity everything sounds like an echo.

I have spent a lot of my time testing ideas and trying new things, in my daily work. I have learned that wicked personal circumstances require direct, personal intervention. I realize that in order to restore people, young and older, from trauma, stress, mental health, and addiction we need a combination of medical treatment and narrative mediation. When folks are ready to be restored they need assistance in restorying. Attachments need to be regained or replaced, accountability needs to be mandatory and self-regulated, forgiveness needs to be bidirectional, and hard work must be celebrated and rewarded.

Over the next months, I am going to restore an old habit of writing daily and publishing often. I would love if this was a dialogue but if you aren’t ready to write a comment or question a premise then I hope that something here fills your ears and your head, and your heart.

B

This week’s post on Vocal

On the road less traveled, life becomes an adventure. We spend so much time planning to live that we miss the opportunity to experience our existence on our terms.

https://motivation.media/life-isn-t-meant-to-be-straight-lines

When we play everything safely, are we lengthening mediocre existence? Is adding days to our lives what is important? Should we be taking some chances and adding life to our days?

I suppose just by asking that question; I am exposing my bias. I believe we should step over the imaginary line every chance that we get. I am not suggesting skydiving but not ruling it out.

Every day, I am presented with opportunities, most of them free, that challenge my public circle of comfort. I meet new people who are trying new things when I go to places that aren’t my regular haunts. My views are stretched by reading authors and magazines that don’t fit my usual library. If I have the opportunity to walk alongside someone who I disagree with and ask lots of clarifying questions, I get to see the world from a different viewpoint.

On days that I don’t feel like riding my bike, I try to ride it 5 km further to see what is on the other side of my destination. If I am feeling rushed, I try to slow down and breathe more deeply. When I am anxious, I make space to step away rather than instinctively charge ahead.

I swing on swings and slide down slides whenever the opportunity appears. I play with children and ask questions of older strangers. I present ridiculously impossible queries to friends and colleagues and attempt to leave my preconditioned bias outside the discussion.

On frigid days or muggy summer afternoons, I agnostically spend time in the elements appreciating whatever is presented rather than surrendering to the inertia of excuses to stay inside.

Taking risks is about embracing a small unknown nugget and accepting what follows. When we do anything for the first time, we receive a little prospect of unexpected. I always feel something when my boundaries are poked. I am better for new experiences even when they don’t seem favorable.

Convenience and comfort are poor metrics for a life lived well. Limiting what we hear, say, do and who we live life with reduces the quality of our existence.

Disclaimer “Don’t ever, even as a joke, put your head in a lion’s mouth” but when you are presented with the prospect of seeing a lion, I recommend spending some time watching her behavior. Maybe there is a lesson to be learned.