Ending and Beginning

Yes, that’s how I’m looking at the world now, in terms of the stress reaction it causes in me. For now I believe that too much cortisol in my body, caused by too much stress in my life, is what has messed up my life and made it so difficult. It’s why my body has always been inclined to be my enemy instead of an ally.

Where did all that native stress come from? Was it from my dad yelling at me, making me think I was no good? Just like I yell at my sons?

Ah well, does it make that much of a difference? Let your belly hang down and enjoy your days, man. You might as well.

I had a vivid dream last night that my family and I were looking for a new house to live in, and that we’d found one: a beautiful, newish, non-traditional log multi-building property with acreage in the hills near Mt. Horeb. I even dreamed the name of the builder (who built the house and lived there for a time with his family): Mike Dolan. (I checked online when I woke up, and there doesn’t appear to be a builder by that name in Mt. Horeb…although there is a realtor by that name in Wisconsin.)

And when I woke up from that vivid, exciting dream, I realized why it was so appealing: Starting things is exciting. Continuing things through to their completion is not exciting. That goes for love affairs, careers, marriages, home ownership, life…. The beginning is always fun and thrilling. The rest is hopefully not drudgery, but it doesn’t give you that rush that the start does.

And when you’re at a certain age and phase of life, there are fewer and fewer starts and more and more of the continuing part of things, so life is less exciting. It may be more satisfying, but sometimes one wants some excitement.

I think it’s not necessary that there be no starts later in life, and perhaps intentionally starting something new is one way of keeping some of the excitement in life. Although when your plate is full the opportunities to start new things don’t just fall in your lap like they used to.

I’m a great starter, but a poor finisher. All of the above is why.

This is what hope looks like to me:

I was once passionate about cross-country skiing. It’s faded from my life over the last ten years, which I blame on the demands of job, home ownership, and family.

To see both my boys out there doing it, and doing it well, made me feel really good. I felt as if there was hope for the future again, as if there was the possibility of fun and satisfaction and enjoyment even when the future appears so bleak and dreadful.