Carve Out A Life

An unusual residual from reading this book about re-imagining business has struck me ... that is, re-imagining a life. Carving out a life that fits you. A life that fits you exactly. A life tailored to you -- as if -- it were your life. I worry we are all living a life someone else thinks we should be living.

Take an inventory of all the things you have going on in your life. Decide which really matter and which really don't. It can be a little shocking. Like cleaning out closets, when you are done, you wonder, why was I keeping all that crap around here anyway?

I've had the added pleasure of helping clean out old clothes and stuff of my parents after they were gone and it makes it painfully clear how much stuff just doesn't matter. Are we lost in a swamp of stuff and a swirl of little pieces of paper and a wind that blows us here and there and everywhere for no good reason?

There's just no doubt that we're all dying. And still, every day we put off real and authentic relationships with living human beings and choose other silly busy work, to get through our days instead. Perhaps its just too frightening to look others straight in the eye. Maybe we will find that truth I mentioned, right there in their deep regard, that we are all dying.

The only people left who seem to know how to enjoy the liveliness of a day are children. When I'm with my son, there is no shying away from rolling down a green summer grassy hill, or throwing yourself into a cold lake, or letting ice cream melt and drip all over your face. They do not hold back.

We still think someone's watching. We think someone's deciding if we're pretty or handsome enough. We think someone's deciding if our car is cool enough. We think someone's deciding whether or not to be our friend based on whether our house, apartment, mansion, or hut is good enough.

No one is watching. They are too busy dying.