Soak it In

You ever have everything in your life be absolutely fine? That's a terrifying feeling isn't it?

When everything in your life is fine that means you have to go out and find reasons to make it not fine. You have to find challenges and danger and entertainment and the risk is your own well-being. Otherwise you'll slowly be ground to dust by the crushing weight of stagnation.

But, to be fair, the crushing weight of stagnation is warm.

Man is faced again and again with the choice between going out into the wilderness to slay a polar bear, or a grizzly bear, or a grolar bear (grizzly-polar combo bear with the deadliness of the grizzly and the post-modern fashion savvy of the polar bear) OR choosing to stay in his cave and laugh at his cave painting of a buffalo farting in the face of another buffalo stooped down to eat some grass.

On the one hand, you're mastering the elements and furthering the legacy of your species. On the other hand,

buffalo farting on another buffalo's face is pretty freaking funny. You earn at least a pat on the back for getting us that far.

I think deep down though, it's not about how many grolar bear pelts you have woven into your hair, or how many moose burgers barbecues you have on a regular year-round basis. Or even how funny your cave paintings are.

The real triumph is the pursuit itself. Making the active choice of getting up, putting on your stylish loin-cloth/ all-natural cave-man jumpsuit, and slogging through the wilderness in the somewhat blind pursuit of a beast to conquer or a voluptuous cave-wench to have your children and potentially use as beast-bait. Or maybe something even more noble than that. It doesn't matter. Just as long as you're slogging, or toiling, or striving while the little kid voice in your head whines, "I'm tiiiiired! Can we stop? When's snack time? Can I get a drink of water? Can I go to the bathroom?"

And to me, the essence of maturity and character is saying, "No! We will toil until we can toil no more! We will fight the good fight! Be it for our country, or our ideals, or in the pursuit of a delicious cheese wheel. A job must done and we will bend our selves to its demand. And in that way we will kill ourselves. Or, at the very least, we will make our selves sit out in the corner until its ready to cooperate."

And then the essence of maturity and character puts on a yachting cap, takes out a corn cob pipe and smashes a bottle of bourbon over his chest and throws it at a tank that's about to run over a beached whale. 

The tank gets drunk and passes out on the sand while the street urchins pick its tank-pants pocket.

What was I talking about?

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So...I recorded this and put it on Soundcloud. You can find me reading it at this link.

THIS LINK