“Intention, good or bad, is not enough.”
~John Steinbeck, from The Winter of Our Discontent
For many years I was taught that being discontented is a
bad thing. As Christians, I was told, we
should always be filled with joy and that discontent is a sign of weakness. I
was told we should never be unhappy with our life because we have so much to be
thankful for, especially in America. Maybe
it is a defect in my personality, but I have always disagreed slightly with
that philosophy.
For years, I was continually fighting my weight. I was in a constant struggle with food that I
always lost. At some point, I resigned
to the fact that I had no control over food, that I could not exercise
regularly because of a plethora of reasons, and that I just needed to accept my
life in its current state. It was the
same with my job. I had dreamed of
getting my doctorate and teaching at the college level, but more than once I
gave up on that dream as well. In a sense, I was content with the person I had
become, but hating that person at the same time. Because that was my present reality, I felt
that would be my reality for the rest of my life.
Then the age of 40 reared its ugly head. Forty is a magical and terrifying age. It is not the age to look back and have regrets
or look forward with dread. I had done many great things: successful teacher,
loving father, active in my church and singing regularly, and a seemingly happy
husband. But under the surface bubbled an insecure person that was bursting at
the seams to get out and do something different. This was not the person I wanted to be and I
felt I had to make a change for the sake of my sanity.
Now I am happier than I have ever been, and one reason
for that transformation is because of my discontent. I want to be a better professor next year
than I was this year. I want to learn
more every day, gain more skills, teach different classes, improve my writing,
and open up a part of myself that I never knew existed. I want to continually improve my fitness
level and find new challenges to pursue. I kept most of my weight off in the
last five years, ran a whole 5K, and pushed myself in the gym every time I went. But that is not enough. I know I can do better, push myself harder,
run faster, or make changes that will make me feel better about my body.
I know skeptics will say: “How do you know when you have
reached the point where you are happy with yourself?” If they say that, they have missed the whole
point. I never want to be content with where I am. I know someday I will look
back and applaud what I have accomplished, but I hope that I will still be
pursuing new challenges until the day I die. I want to be like Betty White,
still acting in her 90s. I want to be Willie Nelson (minus his obvious bad
habit), who got a Black Belt in Karate at 82.
I want to be like Bill Cosby, still active and extremely funny well into
his 80s. I don’t want to worry about
death at every corner, but I want to naively pretend I will live forever.
Yes, I am an idealist, but that is the way I choose to
live. I want to always be looking for
the next challenge, reading the next book, or wondering what is around the next
corner. I want to continually be
striving to improve myself, as well as taking care of the ones I love, supporting
my children as they transform into adults, training my body into submission, becoming
a more effective college instructor and mentor, and seizing ways to make a
difference in other peoples’ lives every day.
Will you join me? The only limits you have are the ones
you place on yourself.
No comments:
Post a Comment