If you have the will to stand on high and solid ground, you can see clearly, past the fog, past the haze. You can position yourself as close to the edge as needed, to look as far into your world as is humanly possible. But if you're comfortable down in the safe valley, in the low and slippery muck, you may never dare to climb high and venture close to that edge. You may not even feel, or be willing to acknowledge, your trepidation. You may just decide that whatever is out there to see and do is just not worth the risk.
The absolute capacity of reason is your rock, your reliable foundation. The weakness of self-deception, lies, and unfounded fears are your muck, your groundless ground. What you will get to see, how far you will take your life, whether your life will be capable of joy, or be blessed with a sense of meaningfulness ... always depends on your courage, your clarity of thought, and where you decide to stand.
Today’s photo is a little misleading. It seems to imply that I have stood bravely on that high and solid ground. What the picture does not show are the guardrails I stood behind. I did not climb the mountain. I drove to the mountaintop. I did not stand at risk above those valleys and hills and mountains and clouds. I carefully drove, then parked my car, then walked the few feet to the overlook at Caesar’s Head State Park in South Carolina … and cautiously looked out, standing safely behind the guardrails.
That brilliant light, searing through the fog and clouds, is nature’s way of illuminating her bounty. But it more truly represents for me an abiding fear, blinding me to much of what could lay out there in my future, its ambiguity holding me back, that glaring light reminding me to stay safely behind life’s guardrails.
I am almost ashamed to say, at this late time in my life, how symbolic that trip and that safe stance on the mountaintop is of my life. I did face danger in the war zone of Vietnam. But I did not choose to go there. I was drafted. And by the time I got back home, whatever risks might have presented themselves to me were avoided to almost every extent possible. In my life, there were no apparent mountaintops to reach for. If there were, they had become invisible to me, as though risk and opportunity resided in another plane of existence.
I had dreams. There were things of significance which floated in my brain but never had the opportunity to come to fruition. I worked hard, very hard. And to a considerable extent, given my lack of education, and given my low self-esteem, I found success in my career. In fact, just to see it in writing, you might find it impressive.
My last position was with one of the largest construction companies in America, in one of their regional offices. I was a regional accounting manager over three states, possibly the only one in the company’s history that did not have an accounting degree, or any full college degree at all. I obtained that position in the same manner I obtained most positions along the way. I worked hard. I sometimes spend more hours at home, learning how to do my job better, than I spent at work. Through classes, courses, seminars, and private study, I learned everything I needed to learn to do my job, other positions above mine, and my bosses’ job. And when jobs of interest were vacated, due to promotion or someone leaving the company, I was ready to step in. And in many cases, I did. Although I had other and better jobs before, my first position in construction was as an unskilled laborer, shoveling dirt and pushing brooms.
It’s a shame, a damned crying shame, that I never had the courage to use my intellect and my work ethic to persistently pursue a venture more closely aligned to those things floating around in my dreams, things that could only be expressed in writing. Ofttimes, my writing would languish for years, no pen to paper, no fingers to keyboard … while I toiled toward someone else’s dreams.
Now, although I do not believe it is too late for me to accomplish anything noteworthy, I must deal with the ailments and distractions and disease of old age. I must deal with knowing that my exposure to Agent Orange in Vietnam will likely inflict a heavy toll on me in the coming years. A long list of sometimes deadly diseases comes from that exposure. I’ve already had two of those diseases, including prostate cancer. I am recovered but I am not the same.
Some level of physical or mental discomfort is almost constant for me. And although I have a still-developing writing skill and several important projects fairly well-defined, my progress in those projects is almost nonexistent. It is not writer’s block. I’m not even sure I believe in that. It’s a low level of mental energy which too often swoops down on me and leaves me lazy and unproductive. And, I suppose, it is also a crippling concern that no important work lies inside me, something I don't want to know, something that would destroy my favorite fantasy of becoming an important writer.
When my mind was young, I could work for 10 or more hours, many days in a row, without feeling exhausted. If I had somehow found the courage to dedicate my life, or some significant portion of it, to writing, and if I had taken the time to learn about all the educational resources for developing writing skill … I could have probably written a dozen or more books by now, instead of never getting past chapter one.
The mountaintops of my life were always out there. But if I saw them, I never had the courage to even acknowledge they were there. I was blinded by the light, not the light of the sun, but the blazing explosion of a fearful energy that appeared whenever my dreams came calling, directing me back behind the safety railing, where I might securely imagine a thing that could happen, but never would.
I accept my responsibility in designing my life. And I will live whatever is left of that life in a way that tries to take advantage of those days when my mind is clear enough to think and to write.
If you are young and reading this, I will offer these words, not in the way of advice, certainly not in the way of instruction, but just things to consider:
If you believe in the value of having a productive and meaningful life, then, unless you are extraordinarily gifted in some way, you should prepare for a balancing act. Whatever schooling you have available to you will come at a financial cost that might take years to resolve. Consider that carefully. A college degree is no guarantee. I took some college courses and I took some technical courses, along with a great number of one-day classes and seminars. Most of those helped me in securing work or doing the work at hand.
If you find that there is something which you love to do, then you have an enormously important decision ahead of you. If the thing you love can provide you with the financial means to live the type of life you want to live, then do that thing. But if the thing you love cannot support you, then it must be a hobby, at least until it can support you. If that does not sound right for you, you will have to balance the dangerous difference between risk and recklessness.
Whatever career you choose will likely disappear during your lifetime. You must always be learning and growing, keeping your eye on how the world is changing.
The years will fly by as you get older. Unexpected things will happen, good and bad. Unattended problems will get worse. No matter what you may be told, your life is your responsibility. There is no earthly savior looking out for you. You won’t win the lottery. Long-lasting happiness requires life to be meaningful. And only your decisions can make that happen.
I will not be climbing life’s high mountains. That time and opportunity has passed for me. But here, down in the safe valley, down in the muck, I will trudge ahead, always looking up, always trying to see beyond that blinding light of fear, that fear of final failure; always straining to see into a future where mental clarity and intellectual energy bless some few precious moments; always hoping to see interesting or important words appear on my computer screen, as I click away at my keyboard.