“If you could go to the future for one day of your life, what day what you choose, and what age would you be?”
At the dinner table last night, our daughter, Andie Kate, was posing some hypothetical questions. This particular question stuck. I don’t think that the goal was to have my brain wrapped up like a pretzel for the next eight hours, but that is exactly what happened.
As I started down the rabbit hole of future thought, I began to wonder exactly what it is that I want in my life, but more importantly, what I don’t want. While I could have made the choice to go into particular detail, there was really only one thing that I was concerned with. Basically, my entire existence was centered around one concern. All of my fears, frustration, sadness, anger, and discontentment ultimately hinged on one thing that I have always worried about. Of all the times that I have stared at the ceiling, through sleepless nights, throughout all of the six-week stop lights where I drift off so deep into space that it hurts when the green light strikes me back into reality, during all of the lectures, conversations, meetings when I have gazed into someone’s eyes, fully unaware of what language was being spoken because my head was so far down the tunnel of future fear of insecurity, there has ultimately only been one concern that I have for the outcome of my existence. My only real want or need is this:
I want to know that everything is going to be “ok”.
I am not sure what “not ok” looks like, but I fear it more than anything. When I worry (which is often), it is rarely about the problem at hand, but the compounding of problems which will come as a result of this particular problem. I guess I have a fear of problems just mounting to the point spontaneous combustion. Asides from the health of my loved ones, I can’t think of anything that I can justify worrying about, if someone could tell me that it’s all going to be “ok”.
Maybe this frame of reference can help me to see some of the irrationality which takes place in my head. Possibly it can allow me to compartmentalize and defragment much of the garbage that starts swirling around whenever something doesn’t go my way. If I can just remind myself that it will all be “ok”, I think that I would fear very little…but I have a short memory, so I will continue to work. However, it worked long enough to make this blog post, and that is why writing is my favorite kind of therapy. I feel better, not worse, after writing this, and I hope that you are better, not worse, for having taken the time to read.
Peace, Love, and all things, Beef related,