On faithlessness
A journal from December 23rd, 2024
I’ll be leaving home in about 10 days [for a ski trip—pictured above].
As excited as I am to embark on this next journey, I’m also a little reluctant. Mostly because I’ve saved no money during my time here. And because I’ve not prepared my car for travel. (And, of course, because I’m gonna miss my family.)
I realize, though, that much of this reluctance is in vain; I’m worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet. There are still 10 days between now and my departure.
I’m concerned about money—but I’ve got all the money I need. I’m worried my car won’t be ready to go—but when has it never been ready in time?
And how could I have saved much money, anyway? I’ve been recovering from heart surgery, for crying out loud! Why am I so hard on myself? Why do I expect so much? Why do I expect at all?
Aren’t things more special when they’re gifts?
Come to think of it, I’ve always figured my shit out. I—or Someone else—has always managed to ensure my needs are met. I wonder, then, wherein lies the origin of my incessance . . . Is there something, some psychological absence, I need to resolve deep within?
If you asked, I’d say I’m faithful. But my actions don’t align. It’s like I am worried the future will take something I want desperately not to lose. It’s like I think I’m the captain!
Do I not believe in my ability to bring back that which I relinquish? And that if it doesn’t return, it simply wasn’t meant to be? Can you be simultaneously faithful and a control freak? Should I really have something in the first place if I’m that desperate to not lose it?
Not once have my worries turned out to be “valid.” I may not always live so luxuriously, but my world keeps spinning, nonetheless.
Habitually, I wonder, anxious as can be, “What will I do? To be here, or to be there? Should I stay or should I go?”
But no matter how much nor how expertly my mind cranks, this impending moment I’ve been thinking so hard about always comes, and I always do exactly what I was going to do, regardless of how many angles I took beforehand.
“Most people worry about shit that hasn’t and probably never will happen.”
- Multiple famous people, probably
As a matter of fact, I realize, when I look back upon my life, that even though throughout each step I’ve been maddeningly preoccupied with the future, few things, if any at all, could have played out another way. Sure, things, I’ve learned, tend to take a lot longer than you first think they will. And sure, I might, with all the knowledge I wield today, have done life a little differently. But isn’t that all part of the process? Isn’t this the essence, the seed, of parenthood?
Perhaps anxiety is inevitably part of it all, too. Perhaps I must be anxious today so I can one day be a rock to which others may anchor. Perhaps I must see firsthand that, despite my doubts, it will be okay.
All I’ve gotta do is take a step. One foot in front of the other. What more could I do, anyway?
Of course, I can’t advocate for a purely moment-to-moment approach—absolutes, I find, are almost always short-sighted. There is, indeed, something about forethought that’s essential to the good life.
But to make a habit of it—to let anticipation take up any more than, I don’t know, 10% of your attention—is to sacrifice what life is all about for something that does not exist . . . it is to live in vain, embody what may be considered the opposite side of the coin that is hedonism, and, most importantly, to deny faith in anything greater than oneself.
Misery is a catalyst for the most necessary of reinvention. Better to have tried and failed than to not have tried at all, right? I may not have always done right, but at least I did!
Is there anywhere else I’d rather be? What a question! I am here.
When I think about my life at current—indeed, when I’ve always thought about my life at current—I conclude that I am glad to be who I am and grateful for all the experiences I’ve had. And certainly, that I’d rather be no one else.
Though there are plenty of experiences I might wish I could have had, I could say just as easily that I am grateful not to have had them since their absence has both made me into this thing I am and granted me the initiative to do certain things I might not otherwise have done with my life.
You know? It all makes sense, eventually. As long as you just keep swimming. Why concern yourself with matters out of reach?
That is Someone else’s job.
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