"Taking Stock" Causes Much Un-needed Reflection
Some old friends from Illinois (the exurbs of Chicago) decided to make the trek -- as long as they were in San Diego -- to our little heaven, twelve hours away by train, in northern California.
Kathryn, an enthusiastic pre-adolescent the last time we saw her, prompted the trip: she wanted to reconnect with her friends -- our two boys. Having spent many consecutive days of time w
ith our boys during summers more than six years ago, the girl Kathryn had an unusual affinity for the goofy-ness of our sons.
Their visit -- and the now gray memories of our lives back in Batavia, Illinois (Chicago exurbs) -- caused me to wonder if I'm doing anything of importance these days. Anything great? I began a mental spreadsheet with only a few columns and a bit more rows: my father's estate; working at being a father to two young men; carrying on Community Building stuff; doing construction projects; blogging; resurrecting my musical talents; getting my consulting practice up and running (neither of which is happening: not up, not running).
"None of this is important, you know," I told myself. Yes, probably, I have read too much Kushner, Block, Castaneda, Jung. Don Juan, Castaneda's mentor, tells him, cryptically, that "everything is unimportant." I wonder about that every day; I watch all of my new birds (new to me) and work at wasting "hours in feeling absolutely useless." (David Ignatow) None of this is important, I think: is that really true?
I'm sure my late father, Arthur, is (six years since he passed and he still speaks to me in stilted phrases) and was disappointed with his childrens' "success." He would have had us be "great:" somehow overcoming the insecurities and deep psychic wounds of our childhood where we, my three brothers and I, were lucky if we felt like we should be alive that very day. No, we won't become career diplomats or Supreme Court Justices; being a kind, compassionate human being is what I yearn for, mostly, these days.
I know what causes this kind of ongoing reflection: it is a deep-seated fear that my life, when I'm gone, will not have meant something. But, alas, it already has; I have far exceeded my expectations for the kind of life I could have, should have, had. My children and stepchildren love me deeply and I them. My wife and I have the kind of loving and challenging relationship that my parents could never have dreamed of. Work? Nope, not too great these days but...it's not too great for a lot of folks.
In response to my self-inflicted examination, I was exhausted: I decided to take a nap. First, I had to read a New Yorker piece about a feisty woman publisher, Hu Shuli in China who pushes the edges of what's allowed in the Chinese press as the editor of Caijing. (Hmm, how come I'm not doing something important like that?)
"When are you going to something important?," I murmured in my head. My response to the inner voice: "Shut up; I'm napping just as fast as I can." How's that for important?
APG Consulting Website
Some old friends from Illinois (the exurbs of Chicago) decided to make the trek -- as long as they were in San Diego -- to our little heaven, twelve hours away by train, in northern California.
Kathryn, an enthusiastic pre-adolescent the last time we saw her, prompted the trip: she wanted to reconnect with her friends -- our two boys. Having spent many consecutive days of time w
ith our boys during summers more than six years ago, the girl Kathryn had an unusual affinity for the goofy-ness of our sons.Their visit -- and the now gray memories of our lives back in Batavia, Illinois (Chicago exurbs) -- caused me to wonder if I'm doing anything of importance these days. Anything great? I began a mental spreadsheet with only a few columns and a bit more rows: my father's estate; working at being a father to two young men; carrying on Community Building stuff; doing construction projects; blogging; resurrecting my musical talents; getting my consulting practice up and running (neither of which is happening: not up, not running).
"None of this is important, you know," I told myself. Yes, probably, I have read too much Kushner, Block, Castaneda, Jung. Don Juan, Castaneda's mentor, tells him, cryptically, that "everything is unimportant." I wonder about that every day; I watch all of my new birds (new to me) and work at wasting "hours in feeling absolutely useless." (David Ignatow) None of this is important, I think: is that really true?
I'm sure my late father, Arthur, is (six years since he passed and he still speaks to me in stilted phrases) and was disappointed with his childrens' "success." He would have had us be "great:" somehow overcoming the insecurities and deep psychic wounds of our childhood where we, my three brothers and I, were lucky if we felt like we should be alive that very day. No, we won't become career diplomats or Supreme Court Justices; being a kind, compassionate human being is what I yearn for, mostly, these days.
I know what causes this kind of ongoing reflection: it is a deep-seated fear that my life, when I'm gone, will not have meant something. But, alas, it already has; I have far exceeded my expectations for the kind of life I could have, should have, had. My children and stepchildren love me deeply and I them. My wife and I have the kind of loving and challenging relationship that my parents could never have dreamed of. Work? Nope, not too great these days but...it's not too great for a lot of folks.
In response to my self-inflicted examination, I was exhausted: I decided to take a nap. First, I had to read a New Yorker piece about a feisty woman publisher, Hu Shuli in China who pushes the edges of what's allowed in the Chinese press as the editor of Caijing. (Hmm, how come I'm not doing something important like that?)
"When are you going to something important?," I murmured in my head. My response to the inner voice: "Shut up; I'm napping just as fast as I can." How's that for important?
APG Consulting Website
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