The average of my existence lay somewhere between the back of my steering wheel, and my expectation of reality.
Does this even make any sense? I’m not real sure, but let’s move on.
I am at my best when I am behind my steering wheel. This is where I thrive. This is where I succeed. Behind my steering wheel, I have woo-ed executive boardrooms. I have won arguments and put people in their place. I have re-structured product lines, and brought audiences to their feet. Behind the wheel, I have returned punts for touchdowns, hit grand-slam home runs, and made last second three-pointers. I say the right things and solidify broken relationships. I am motivated, inspired, and ready for anything. I fear no one or no thing, and will back down to nobody. My good ideas are good, and even my bad ideas are appreciated. I lift all the weights, and I win all the races. I make all the right moves, and everyone is pleased.
As I sit in the driver’s seat, it all makes sense. I can process rationally, and make good decisions. I am ballsy and brave. I am willing to be assertive, speak my mind, and face every situation with confidence. I have an answer to everything. Everyone is happy when they are within my imagination, and behind my steering wheel. Everything is rosey, and the outlook is bright.
However, there is a problem….
Life doesn’t occur behind my steering wheel. When I leave my vehicle, and prepare to step out in the world, there are people to face, and answers to give. There are relationships which are broken, and commitments to be made. There are questions that need answered, and there is failure and ruin. There are consequences. There is anger. There is disappointment and despair. There are decisions, and opinions, and adversity, and embarrassment. There is the big stage, the big opportunity, the adversity, and indecision. All of these things things are looming ahead. There are mobs of angry customers, who have come together to confront me. There are people who know what a phony I am. There is unworthiness. There is anxiety. There is depression. There is fear. There is risk of exposure, and ridicule, and judgement. There are friends who are preparing to turn their back on me, because I have worn out my welcome, and I am no longer fun. My newness has worn off, and I am no longer worthy. I know it is coming, the loneliness will come.
And yet, another problem….
Life doesn’t occur in the future, and my expectations are poison. As I continue to further seek balance, I am learning that my imagination is more realistic than my perception of how the future is going to play out. Behind my steering wheel, my life is wonderful, but if it’s happening later, it’s a loss. If it’s under my dome light it’s delightful, but if it’s the next day, it’s disaster. If it’s in my sunroof is sunshine, but if it’s scheduled it’s scary. Behind my wheel, there are no “what-if’s” and the cabin of my car contains very little chaos.
I guess that is to say that I tend to have a deep and profound fear of the future, but an intense love-affair with the now. When I am living in the present, I believe no one to be happier, but when I start peering into “what is to come”, I invite chaos and uncertainty. For things that are happening later, I try to prepare for every scenario and implement a course of action, but there are simply too many variables, and I am far from organized (Even if I had a plan of action, I would forget where I placed it, and wouldn’t be able to read my handwriting). I guess ultimately what I am trying to say is that I need to stay present, enjoy the moment, and favor the side of imagination, and stay aware from the predicting and projecting. It’s dangerous world between my two ears, but it’s a delightful place, if I can find the right neighborhood.
I think I just made myself motion sick. I need a nap.
Peace, Love, and all things Beef related,