And Oh, About That Thing

What does it mean to live?  Or better yet, what does it mean to have a life beyond the typical ideas of, say, a house or a home? Or how about what is life beyond the size of our bedroom, or to have a place to sleep, or something to eat or drink, or as the topic stands, what does it mean to be alive?

I assume my version of real life is mine and your version is yours.
Then again, I assume this is the way life is.
Isn’t it?

I see things through my eyes. You see things through your eyes and regardless of our point of view, the world around us is a big and changing place.
Nothing is the same as it was. Not us. Not the landscapes that we grew up with. Everything has changed, which is not altogether bad, per se.
Life evolves and the things that I held onto when I was younger have been let go and replaced by the things I clung to as a young adult. And here I am in my early 50’s, still struggling and still hoping to figure out who I want to be when I grow up.

I am not the same as I was ten years ago. Neither are you, as a matter of fact, and who knows who or where we’ll be in ten years.
Someplace good, I hope.

I am not sure that the car I drive now is the same car I would have chosen 15 years ago.
I am not sure that my dreams of where I would be are the same as where I am now which, in a sense, I am not where I want to be. However, the ideas of who or where I want to be in life have changed considerably over the years.

I am not sure what my vision of me was ten years ago, nor am I sure if I was captured in some kind of idea that this is it, and this is life; therefore, this is the best that I can do. Thus, this is the best that I will ever be.
This is a terrible mindset for me.

But life?
She is always moving and always changing. Life is unfolding by the second and as we move or as we dodge another bullet, so-to-speak, or as we dodge another landmine, or as we find ourselves smack-dab in the middle of consequences, either way, life is always going to be the ultimate teacher.
Too bad we forget to bring a pad and pencil so we can write down what we’ve learned. But learn or not, life is going to keep teaching us until we get the hint.

No differently from when I was a kid and I had to write something on the chalkboard for not listening in class or not learning my lesson, life has its own chalkboard.
Life has its own way of teaching, and should we fall asleep in class or fail to do our homework, life has its own way of teaching discipline.

I can say that I have made the same mistakes more than twice. I can say that I have banged my head in the same place more times than I can count.
But life’s our teacher. Life is going to put the same tripping hazards in the same places or in the same scenarios until one day, a light comes on and finally, we learn our lesson.
We go a different way and we stop falling down the same goddamned holes.

And oh, about that thing called happiness. Or about that idea of happily ever after, or if we are going to be straightforward and be honest about living the life that we’ve always wanted, the question I have is this: how do we make the dream a reality.

I can see myself now, where I want to be, which is somewhere not too far offshore in a small boat, big enough for me and you, and big enough to have some comforts like a bathroom, a place to go inside the cabin and take a rest. I would like a way to heat up some food, and a little fridge to keep the drinks cold.
That’d be nice.

I see it now, me, out on the water beneath a clear blue sky. I see my dream, materialized, in real life.
I can feel the sun on my face and the warmth on my skin. I can feel the fishing rod in my hand as I bounce the line up and down, to keep the bait moving with hopes to pull up one of the biggest summer flounders of my life.
I would love to see your face the first time you pull one up.
I can hear the wind. I can hear the nearby boats that charge through the ocean, which are not too far away, but not so close that they will disturb my peace.

I am a creature of habit. Therefore, I am also a creature of guilt, complete with a past that I wonder if I will ever outrun or escape. I am a creature who overthinks, overanalyzes and over-assumes, and all too often, I am a creature who overreacts. Thus, I am someone who becomes overwhelmed by irrational fears, or outdone by an anticipatory anxiety.
And what does this do?
This overrides my best potential, and sinks below the level of underwhelmed and underachieved, and next, it’s like I’m underwater and drowning in thin air.

Life is calling out, no differently from the teachers in grade school only I’m afraid to raise my hand because, no different from how I was back then, I don’t have the answers.
I didn’t manage to pay attention and therefore, I don’t want to stand at the blackboard again, and write “I will learn to pay attention in class,” five hundred times in front of everybody.

They don’t leave kids back in school anymore.
Or so I am told.
They don’t make them stand in front of the chalkboards or do humiliating assignments either.
Or again, so I am told.

That’s okay. Life is our teacher now.
Life doesn’t care about sending notes home to your parents, nor does life care if you are offended by her lessons.

As far as life goes, she will keep teaching.
We can learn or just repeat the lessons until we get it straight.

And oh, yeah, I did a thing not too long ago.
I heard from the professor last night.

She told me that some of her students confided in her that they were on the brink of doing something tragic, and they didn’t because of something I went over with them in the classroom.
(And Rob, you were the first person that I thought about.)

Heavenly Mother and teacher of all kinds,
please have patience with me. I am learning.
Or I am trying to.
It just takes me a little longer to retain information or get things right.

I’m not like your other students, or like my Mom used to tell me:
I’m a very special boy . . .

At least I hope so.