I’ve been having a weird week since getting back. Nothing is “wrong” per se, but a whole lot of what used to take up my attention is starting to feel irrelevant.
I don’t spend nearly as much time worrying as I used to. That’s a nice change.
On the other hand, I feel disconnected from some aspects of my old life. I’ve struggled in a few conversations to care about what my friends are talking about. They want to talk about their cars, their jobs, promotions, and how some things compare to other things. None of it is very interesting to me right now. Or rather, the “comparison game” is completely uninteresting. I’m very interested in what’s going on inside. Their hopes, doubts, fears, and joys. I love when I’m talking to a friend and we re-discover that neither of us are alone in our feelings. It’s such a gift!
Whereas pre-retreat I was fascinated with the idea of an “optimized life,” I get a lot more juice from thinking of the experience as a journey. Rather than try to find the perfect balance of activities, income, and spending, it’s more meaningful to just experience life as it is. Sure, you want to make sure your finances are in good shape, and maybe I’m taking that aspect a bit for granted. But the whole point of doing that (or anything) is to have a good life.
The way it seems to me now, and this may be fleeting, is that life is only what’s happening right now. You can’t live in the future, and you can hardly plan it with any accuracy. In fact, many of the best things in my life have been surprises beyond anything I would have known to ask for. Meanwhile, many of my “best” plans have fallen apart completely. Thank God they did.
When I talk about “life optimization,” that used to be a way of balancing all the resources in your life for maximum enjoyment. Take a trip, have some experiences, go out for a nice meal every now and then. But right now, I just want to put all my resources into freedom of time.
That’s a compelling goal to me, being totally free to do whatever I want. Though I wonder what I’d do once I have it. Surely, the leisurely life I dream of would get boring, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t I crave some challenge, or some excitement, or a sense of adventure? But I don’t really know. Maybe I would. But maybe I wouldn’t.
I used to think that people who talked this much about meditation were full of shit. But right now, it feels like one of the few things in my life that isn’t 80% nonsense. It’s entertaining and meaningful, which is such a weird way to describe the experience of sitting with an empty mind. Where does this lead me, I wonder? Am I on a path to sitting like a yogi up in some mountain cave somewhere? I need so much less from the world around me than I did before.
Meanwhile, several things that had seemed important to me have turned out to be pure ego-tripping, completely empty of deeper meaning. Hitting the gym for a great body, making lots of money, being good at sports, even traveling…these things are not the calling of my heart.
Instead, I think a lot about camping, especially cooking and sleeping outside. It feels like the right pace, where each day is very slow and you hardly get anything done at all. In fact, all I really want to do is sit around in a camp chair and talk with friends. Maybe read a book or go for a walk for a change of pace. Look up at the stars at night. Life doesn’t have to be complicated to be exceptional.
Picturing myself at the end of a life spent that way, I don’t know if I’d have many regrets. Is life about your accomplishments? Amazing trips you went on, big professional goals attained, or the amount of money you amassed? Not if the sick and dying are to be believed. None of their regrets have to do with any of that. In fact, the most common regret among men is, “I wish I hadn’t worked so much.”
What about the other regrets? “I wish I’d stayed in touch with my friends. I wish I’d have let myself be happier. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings. I wish I’d lived a life true to myself rather than the life others expected of me.” While everyone has to sort out those areas for themselves, for me, they point towards a simpler, slower way of life with a bit more community.
Albuquerque has a lot of that, especially the way my life is unfolding now. But I find myself day-dreaming about going further. How do I find more community, spend more time with friends, and slow down even more to savor this experience of life? At what point do I admit to myself that I want to live in a little tiny-house community up in the mountains, away from the city? Have I become a commune-loving hippie?
Meanwhile, most of my inbox and youtube feed is about business growth and wealth maximization programs. Why? Who cares? Sure, if you have a good end goal in mind, where those areas are just a means to an end, I can understand that. But I don’t think you should make those endeavors the core focus of your life. Or, at least, I shouldn’t.
What do I enjoy? A really simple life. One where I can ride my bike for fun and transportation. One where I don’t have to spend a ton of time or attention on yard work, property maintenance, or whatever. One where I can see friends every day for at least a couple hours. One where I’m intimately present for all of my conversations and not in such a rush to get things checked off the to-do list. One where time away in nature is an integral part of my life, not a rare or one-off event.
Like anybody, I want more of what matters and less of what doesn’t.
A couple of friends have commented that I seem “stoned or something.” But I’m not. At least not pharmacologically. Yet, I do feel high. Sort of detached, even perplexed by what is going on around me. Blissed out, but more conscious than ever.
I haven’t changed much about what I’m doing day to day for work (aside from adding short breaks for meditation). But the experience is completely transformed because my reasons are different. It used to be the case that I would look at a portfolio, or someone’s financial plan and I’d feel “good” or “bad” about how things are going there. But now, I’m not getting in the way as much. I don’t need to justify my own existence or “look good.” Instead, I just think about the person, care, and then make plans to help things go as well as possible for them. It’s amazing how easy this is. Most of what I do is talk to people about stuff they care about, and why they care about it. The math and implementation is almost trivially easy. It’s early to say for sure, but I might actually be better at my job. I need it less, and so I’m able to give more.
More will be revealed, I’m sure, in the next week of post-retreat life. I’ll keep you posted.