And I find myself climbing and looking to reach the top. I am moving and striving to find that place where I can say, yes, I made it!
I am working to find that spot or that pinnacle, that insurmountable or unsurpassable or grand plateau where all is green or summery, or perfect and at last, I have found that presence of self. I have reached the point of highest consciousness and behold, this is my best possible potential.
But then what?
I have heard and seen and lived a life in search of “more!”
I quote the word “more” to imply the emphasis on the meaningfulness of the word, as if to need more and want more and to forever be hungry or to strive with such an unquenchable thirst for more. There is always more.
Never enough.
I often think about the soldier who has been in battle for so long.
I think about their reasons for the fight and the wars which are intended to settle the disputes so, at last, we can find peace.
But then what?
What happens to a person who fought for peace and now that peace is won? What do they do when they’ve never experienced peace for themselves?
Peace . . .
Do we know what this is?
Or what this means?
I know of business people who reached the top of the corporate ladder. They have everything their wallet can afford.
Still, I wonder where their happiness is.
I wonder if their search for “more” has blinded them of what they have. Although they have all the money they need, they lack a specific wealth that comes from within.
I want to reach the sky.
I tell you this and yes, I want to find that place in the world.
I want to find my spot where I can create a space for myself.
I want to be free of this burden which I call internal judgment.
I want to be free enough that I am no longer lost in the comparison to others or “the haves” or “the have-nots.”
While I see the world and am able to enjoy simple things and nice things, I want to be grounded enough that I understand wealth does not always buy health.
I want to know that the world can come with advantages yet life still moves and time still ticks. In the end, we all go to the same place and in the same sized box . . .
The clock never stops and time waits for no one. So in the end, I realize that if I am not aware of myself or if I allow myself to be drawn into the shallows of murky bullshit, or if I allow myself to be tied by the tongues of ego-filled conversations then, above all, I am still caught in a bullshit existence. I’ve had enough bullshit for one life.
Haven’t you?
I want to break this down to a simplified level. For the moment, I want to be clear.
I do not want to lose myself to the competition of comparison.
I do not want to allow someone’s brightness to dim the lights of my own achievements nor should I.
I will no longer be intimidated by those who rank high in the upper levels of traditional education nor should I allow myself to be intimidated or go silent around those who look down with an air of social snobbery. Lastly, while I am who I am, whether I speak with a thick New York City accent, or whether I am heavily tattooed, or appear rough around the edges; and whether I rank high with a title and come with a professional credential or a lack thereof, I want to find that place, or that presence of self, where I am free enough to realize that none of that shit matters.
The wealth of a man is not about what he can afford. No.
This is about the wealth of his heart and his spirit. Forgive me if I say this in a way which appears to be gender specific. I do not mean to insult anyone, by any means. However, if I am writing this to you as me, then I am writing this to you from my perspective.
So – screw it.
I can’t be worried about that sort of thing.
I am young and old and old and young again.
I am not the new kid on the job anymore. I have grown into a position. This is not just true when it comes to my job in the workplace.
This is also true with life.
I have gained some knowledge. I have learned what my experience has taught me, which is subjective in many cases.
I understand that my perception is mine. Yours is yours and while I may think my opinion is true, I understand that there is only one truth.
Anything outside of truth is only an opinion.
I want to see this and realize that perhaps my opinions are in need of an update.
Maybe I am in need of an update.
I have been a man on both sides of the white and blue collar. I have met with people who worked on either side – and it is clear to me that there are those who run around and pound their chest, as if to prove their existence. On the other hand, there are people who are comfortable enough to listen to their team or to accept feedback or whether their 40 years on the job means the world; still, they will listen to a suggestion from someone who started on their first day. They do this because throughout their years, the one thing they learned is this – always be teachable.
I have worked for bosses who were angry.
It’s my way or the highway . . .
I’ve seen that too.
I have met people who worked their entire life away and meanwhile, they have no vivid memories of their family or their vacations. They have all the toys they’ve ever wanted yet they spent so much time and money that their job replaces their satisfactions – their work takes priority and while their search and their rise to find that special place or that grand plateau is true indeed – what’s the point if we reach what we’ve been working for and never take the time to enjoy it.
I do not want to be the warrior who never understands peace nor do I want to lose myself in the battle of status or the draws of popularity.
I don’t want to drown in the complications of compared living.
I don’t want to measure my wealth by the size of my house or the length of my driveway, nor do I want the red or the black that sums the totals of my bank accounts to define who I am as a man, a person, or as a human because, in the end, I am just another specimen in this thing I call Project Earth.
I always remember the old electrician who I knew when I started as a unionized worker.
He was friendly and kind. He was never intimidated by a job or the work. He was never afraid of people’s suggestions and he never allowed himself to be intimidated nor did he ever look to intimidate anyone else.
He told me that he was around long enough to know that suggestions and feedback are helpful.
He said that he had the job long enough that he knew his worth on the jobsite.
He said that when he was young he used to kill himself with crazy ideas and paranoid concerns that someone was going to come along and take his job.
He was afraid that someone might “look better” and be more valuable to the team.
“I was miserable,” he said.
I don’t want to be miserable. I want to be like my old friend.
I want to understand my worth and check my pride at the door. I want to allow for feedback and not have this be a threat or mean that somehow, I am less-than or not worthy of my position.
I want to kick imposter syndrome right in the nuts (if it has nuts, that is).
Lastly, I go back to that story which I have told you before. This was another story from the construction site.
A young man was working with a terrible attitude. He was a wise ass to say the least.
He picked on the older workers. He was comfortable like this because he had an uncle who was influential in the business.
So, on the last day of construction when all was being cleaned up, the young man was working on a ladder. The jobsite had finally come together and the cleanup was a bitch.
The young man spilled a box of electrical parts on the floor, which was just swept by a longtime veteran and laborer.
The tiny pieces rolled and scattered all over the floor.
The young man laughed at the laborer.
“Guess you’re gonna have to sweep that up again.”
That was it!
The laborer was an older man. Short, not very muscular yet his hands were big, hard and very strong.
This man was a person who worked a long and hard life. He worked to put his kids through college so they could have a better life.
He was from the old school – all the way.
Everyone was at their wit’s end with this young man, including the laborer.
In response to the wise ass and the mess he left behind, the laborer approached the young man who was standing on the bottom rung of the ladder. The ladder was standing beneath a ceiling light, right next to the wall. The young man laughed.
The laborer walked up and placed the broom that was in his hand against the wall because, as mentioned, he just finished sweeping up.
Without making a fuss, the laborer reached up, grabbed the young man by the throat and pulled him from the bottom rung on the ladder.
He then slammed the young man against the wall and calmly as ever, he said, “In my life, I have three takes.”
The laborer’s right hand was gripped tightly around the young man’s throat.
The young man’s eyes were open, wide as ever. He was squirming and nearly soiling his own shorts.
The laborer looked deeply into the young man’s eyes.
While counting each statement with the fingers on his left hand – the laborer gestured the number one with the pointer finger.
He calmly said, “I take my time,” and then lifting his second finger he said, “I take my breaks,” and when bringing his third finger up while still gripping the young man’s throat, he said, “And I take no shit!”
Again, calmly as ever yet stern as could be, the laborer explained, “Now go clean it up your fucking self!’
I love this story.
It reminds me that no one is so big or small.
This reminds me to stay humble because life has a way of pulling us off the ladder.
And that’s the last thing I want
I still love that line –
In my life, I have three takes.
I take my time.
I take my breaks
And I take no shit . . .
Stay humble. Be teachable.
Be aware. I don’t want to work my entire life away and never enjoy the fruits of my labor.
Or worse, I don’t want to work so hard that by the time I go to taste them, the fruits of my labor have already spoiled because I was too busy working for them.
Get it?
The Written Addiction 