Someone asked about “my why.” Not just why am I trying to write, although I am. But why am I doing this, working so hard, why do I care, why do I bother.
He says his “why” is freedom and thinking clearly. Which I’m sure are important steps in the process.
But at bottom, I see someone who has looked long and hard off the cliff into the abyss, and seen that he wants to live a meaningful life, one that makes him a better person, and has joy and peace and truth, one that feels good, or barring that, at least right, on the inside.
And that’s what I want too.
Do I seem ambitious? I don’t know what people think “ambition” means. But to me, it means going somewhere that you get a lot of money, and men in suits nod approvingly, and people think that you must be important. And you end up with a life that looks like a castle on the outside and a ruin on the inside, with tattered curtains, and missing floors, and light streaming through the dust.
Very impressive. Very hollow.
I’d rather have a life that looks like a crazy lady’s shanty in the woods, with overflowing gardens crowding out the path, and chubby woodland creatures swooping everywhere about their busy lives, and piles of books in corners, and a perpetually warm kettle, and scruffy dogs and purring cats on top of things, and strange friends who visit to tell you long stories and probe the meaning of life and how to live it.
The fact that you need “ambition” at all to be left alone in the woods with tea and a bunch of bees and not have anyone demand you give it all up to go get a job in a factory to pay more taxes… that is one of the most painful ironies of this society.
No, friend, I think I have “anti-ambition”.
I have a powerful drive to escape what feels like a deeply diseased norm.
Is this a “why” statement?
I think a “why” is far too simple a term. Or maybe it’s more like a point in a process.
It’s a statement about your trajectory.
Where you’re running from, where you’re running to, what you think you’ll need for it to feel good when you get there. Who you hope to become in the process, and what you actually become.
I’m running towards a life that feels good on the inside, where you can bring your whole soul… because I’ve spent most of my life being asked to live lives that feel hollow and require you to hide or cut off perhaps the most important parts of who you are. I’ve spent my life in the empty halls of castles that look good on the outside – and I want out.
I want to BE who I am, how I am. I want to say what I think, for as long and as slowly as it takes to finish. I want to share that with someone who doesn’t hate me for being hard to understand. I want to prioritize things like smelling the rain, and holding still long enough to feel what I’m feeling, and watching bees stick out their tiny bee tongues (did you know they have those?) to drink nectar.
The last thing I want to do is pretend to be something that I hope will impress someone. Anyone.
I want to be unimpressive. But real.
I want to live a life where my whole soul is welcome. Starting today, here. Even if it makes people uncomfortable. Even if it brings down rejection and misunderstanding. Even if I can never fit.
I want to live in a world where that is the norm.
Where we all feel like it’s totally okay to be who we are. And we have the interpersonal skills to kindly greet and step around and understand other people’s oddities. Where misunderstanding is an opener rather than a condemnation. Where no one feels like they have to hide to impress people. Or to eat. Where we all feel like we have a natural right to exist, even if we’re different.
That’s the world I want to vote for, with my time, with my effort, with my choices, with my moments. With whatever work I do, with far too much dedication.
That’s the world I want to leave for my kids.
That’s the dream I want to dream into being.
Maybe that’s why I can never articulate my “why”. It seems so negligibly simple. And so hard.
If you are in the same boat, exhausted from trying to live the wrong life, and trying to dream one worth living into being, come walk with me.
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