Achievement

Years have come and gone, and the yearning for accomplishment – now considerably less urgent than before – continues to pulsate through my veins. Though it was once the carrot that kept me chasing, age dissipates such goals somewhat and leaves us dreaming of more mundane objectives, like comfort, retirement, and security.

In youth, I embraced every challenge energetically. No mountain was too high, no river too deep. I fancied myself eternal and life plum full of opportunities. There were no limits to my talents and possibilities. It was only a matter of applying myself to any given task. But with so many roads to take, I found myself stalling and reaching for experiences that might enlighten and educate me. The road taken was a detour, in the end, leading me through a myriad of twists and turns until I found myself exhausted and eager for tranquility. By then my best days were behind me, spent on living, as opposed to achieving.

We never do recover the time we leave behind.  We gain what we can from the lessons learned and move forward, addressing whatever matters demand our attention most. Always pushing our creative dreams farther back into the future, when we hope we will, one magical day, find the time, resources and energy to build, write, film, compose or whatever it is that we aspire to put together.

No use in regretting those things I did. I have only regrets for those I didn’t do. For those roads I didn’t take. But I’m glad for the path I took and the life I’ve led. I took invaluable experiences from every choice I’ve made.

The thing is, I’ve accomplished nothing more than surviving. I have a good marriage and I raised a beautiful daughter. But I tired long ago. My work days are exhausting, and the few things I look forward to are reduced to having a stiff drink at the end of the day, or a nice round of golf on the weekends, or holding my wife’s hand when doing whatever, or seeing my daughter smile, or catching a good game/movie/concert every now and then. I lack the energy to sit down and write anything longer than a blog post. And I also realize it’s unfair to blame it on a lack of energy because that’s not really the case. The energy level is still high enough for me to get things done. But it’s the spark. The fire under my belly that would motivate me to move my ass and at least try to tackle something of worth.

I wonder, is this the case for others? Or did they achieve what they set out to do, regardless of how high the bar was? It must be different for all of us, to a certain extent. What we were shooting for and what we hit. I only know that I’m not done, and I’m still hopeful that one day I will get my shit together enough to make some of it happen. Whether anybody else thinks it’s worth a damn or not. Getting it done will amount to some relief, at least. Right now, I’d settle for that.