i often wonder if i’m alone.
not emotionally or physically or existentially. my wonderful wife and loving family and cherished friends always make me feel like lots of people are there for me. alone as in unique.
I have a healthy amount of internal struggles. I’ve tried my best to design my life to have as few external struggles as possible (though they’re there too) but while the outside me remains relatively stress-free, the inner self is constantly pulling at threads. philosophical, spiritual, emotional, mental, relational, existential, rational, irrational – you name it, my brain has probably waded at least knee deep through it. i often wonder: “is everyone like this?” (probably. it’s likely not very healthy to ignore the statistical improbability of being 1 in 8,200,000,000.)
There is no such internal struggle so evident as the war between my drive and my contentment.
I’ll try to unpack my drive first, as it has been a part of my self-identity the longest. I believe that when you’re examining things beyond their surface level, it’s always helpful to define our terms. I could look up the definition and copy/paste it here, but that’s not necessary; This is a one-sided conversation, so i’ll explain drive in my words: drive is the longing for movement. drive is the aversion to stillness or complacency. drive is similar to ambition and often confused for it, but the ends of each differ. ambition seeks the goal – typically an external one where some form of public glory may be won. drive generally follows a path or seeks a goal, but it is the seeking that is, itself, the end.
for as long as I can remember I’ve longed for movement. at times that drive overlaps profoundly with ambition. in my late teens and into my early twenties I wanted to be the smartest one in the room. I wanted to be right. I wanted to be the best. but comparison is the thief of joy. I found that no matter how much I knew, someone knew more. no matter how hard I worked, someone worked harder. no matter how successful I was, someone claimed more success. likely As a defense mechanism, I developed an attitude of flippant disregard for other’s opinions. my arrogance grew to a level where I simply decided that my own opinion of myself was all that mattered; that while I could try my best to sway the opinions of others, ultimately I could not control them. Some parts of this philosophy were greatly beneficial, others deeply detrimental. Somewhere along the line, something changed (probably in 2011). That’s when ambition took a back seat to drive.
my drive consumes nearly all of my thoughts in some form or another. even my desire for stillness and solitude are subtly being steered by drive. the mission of self-discovery (or “enlightenment” as many far smarter than I have called it) has a steps along the journey that don’t appear to the outside observer as steps at all – but perhaps even a lack of movement. That’s not how I see it. practices like stillness, solitude, meditation, or prayer are means to an end, but drive doesn’t discount those means. instead it celebrates them.
enter stage left: contentment.
Contentment hasn’t always been a deeply defining personal value. It was cultivated over time and that process didn’t begin in earnest until adulthood. like before, let’s start with defining terms. contentment is being at peace with your circumstances. Ah, yes – you’re a smart reader – you’ve spotted the struggle straight away.
how can a person ever find peace if their most integral characteristic is drive? This is a profound question. If i had the answer, I wouldn’t have labeled this as an internal struggle. let’s examine it hypothetically:
A person with a deep commitment to contentment might sit on their porch, a cup of coffee in their hand, their loving wife next to them, looking out at the trees and think: this is enough. Then the drive kicks in: enough? it’s not about ‘enough’ it’s about movement.
the following is a dramatization of the internal monologue that might arise in such a person:
c: what are you moving toward?
d: we can go wherever you want, but we should be moving, at the very least.
c: why?
d: we’ll never really have peace if we’re sitting still, and you know it
c: it seems pretty peaceful right now?
d: sure, externally – you’re sitting still and quiet, the crickets are chirping, you’re experiencing nature and focusing on the warmth you feel in the company of someone you love – but inside we’re arguing
c: i wouldn’t call this arguing. I would call this having a conversation.
d: you know exactly what I mean. we’re not at peace right now, are we? inside you’re conflicted. You know you’ll never truly be content if you’re not moving forward. it’s who we are.
c: you might be right. but it’s okay to accept that as the circumstances we’re in too, and just have peace about it.
d: peace about the fact that we’re not at peace? that’s asinine.
c: asinine maybe – at least we’re the only ones who are aware of this internal debate and it’s not publicly available.
d: that gives me an idea.
c: can you just sit still for 2 seconds and enjoy the moment?
“what are you thinking about over there?” she asks, genuine curiosity in her voice. he’s lost in thought again, she thinks. he does this a lot.
“I dunno. just thinking.”
If such a situation weren’t purely hypothetical, it might make sense that they would want to try to codify their thoughts through something like a diary or a blog. Or maybe they should just keep it to themselves and keep it private? who knows what the right answer is.
‘publish’