Walking and thinking on a damp chilly autumn morning. A fog clings to the ground, and wraps the trees.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
Interesting conversations with my Traveling Partner last night. Dinner together. Some videos. Nothing much out of the ordinary, it was a pleasant evening at home, in spite of being obviously impaired by pain, the both of us. When did I stop being able to easily “power through” and give a convincing impression of fitness? It seems recent? By the end of most days now, I just… can’t.
Still, there are better versions of me, and this is the idea that I’m giving thought to this morning as I walk. How to be the best version of myself moment to moment, in spite of pain, in spite of PTSD, in spite of brain damage, and in spite of aging. I’m not even looking for a cheat or shortcut. I’ll take the long slow approach, that’s fine. If this shit were easy the world would not be the festering shit pile of corruption and suffering that it seems to be.
… Hell, wouldn’t we all be better off if everyone at least gave a moment of their time to considering being their best selves? I can almost hear someone snap back “how do you know they don’t?”, and I know my response; look around you. That’s how I know. Gaza. Ukraine. Somalia. Rwanda. Yemen. Iran. Seems obvious more than a few people in power aren’t giving being the best version of themselves any thought at all. (When you vote, turn those fuckers out.)
So, I sit here at the side of this trail thinking about how to be the best version of myself. It matters to me. I’m not sure I’ll get there but I’ll be able to look back on a life well-lived in the attempt.
I breathe, exhale, relax. I meditate under a cloudy sky. The air smells of rain, fallen leaves, wood smoke, and petrichor. A lot of candle makers will charge you crazy prices claiming to be selling this scent. They never get it quite right. That’s the thing about the real experience of a scent or a place; any simulation, any fake, any artificial representation is going to fall short for anyone who has lived the moment. There’s something important to understand there, about artifice. I think about that awhile. Being my best self isn’t a “fake it ’til you make it” proposition. That doesn’t really work. Frontin’ like a player doesn’t make you a player. Dressing like a CEO doesn’t make you head of the company you work for. Playing make believe is…play. Becoming one’s best self is work and practice.
I inhale deeply and enjoy the sensation of exhaling. I visualize letting my stress go, exhaling it with my breath.
Wait, did I just dismiss artifice and play acting in one moment, then turn right around and use a visualization exercise in the very next paragraph? Yes, yes I did. Visualization, imagination, playing pretend, and even “dressing for the job you want”, all have a place at the table in life. Becoming the person I most want to be has some real work in it, and a commitment to practice over time. Lots of verbs. So much practice. No guarantee of success, and an implied promise of failure along the way. It’s hard enough just figuring out who we want to be. The work of becoming is its own challenge.
I get to my feet and stretch. I guess it’s as good a time as any to begin again.
