For much of my life, I lived in an alternate reality, a mix of fear, anger and obsession. I was damaged somehow in my early years in the world and I think I have spent a lifetime trying to make repairs. I think I have learned there are two kinds of humans – those making repairs, those who are not. Some people don’t need to, some don’t know they need to.
We each have a plan for life in our heads – all these plans, and for me, the challenge of life is to understand the nature of plans – some are dreams, some fantasies, some creative aspirations that come to life. I am still damaged, as I am learning once more, still trying to understand my plan for life and why it changes and fails and eludes me, time and again. It seem to have mind of our own. We’ve all heard the joke about how to make God laugh – make a plan. But that is a joke, not reality. Reality calls us to change our plans, if we are healthy, if we are strong. This was the year of plans for me. Sell the farm. Buy the new farm with little or no mortgage. Have enough money to build a nice Pole Barn, knock down the old collapsed barn, build strong fences, pay off all of my bills, rebuild my IRA, pay off all my alimony, hire big trucks to move us in style, put a new bathroom in the new bedroom, restore Maria’s Studio Barn, build a new bedroom off the back of the new house, take my girl to Florence.
My plans were predicated on the great American plan: sell your house, cash in, do what you want. So there is a new American plan. Countries are no more invulnerable than me. I lived in a world of expectations. The big book will take care of me. The big house will take care of me. Someone will rise of out the mist to take care of me, to save me. I never chose a secure life.
Was I delusional to believe this is possible? Was I mad? One by one, day by day, month by month, these notions vanished, changed, were altered, crossed off the list. All around me, the world changed. Recessions. Real estate markets. The collapse of publishing as we knew it.
Not to worry. The fences are going up next month. The rest can wait. It will be exciting to see how we can live our lives without most, if not all, of the things we planned for.
All these plans. And isn’t this the story of life. I am still sorting myself out. Am I seeing the world clearly? Do I understand how money works? Are my plans sober, realistic, grounded, do they still come from the damaged part? The collapse of my plans can be frustrating, disappointing, even frightening.
Yet I feel so lucky. I love the way my writing is going, I am so pleased at the way people are responding to it, I have such a creative life with so many good things in it, I love taking pictures so, and the one thing I never planned for – love – is the foundation of my life. So isn’t this a curious thing about plans? The ones you think are so important, the ones you work so hard for. They may not be the most important things at all.
For me, the silver lining, the pot at the end of the rainbow, is clear. I am working, working, working to repair the damage. All the time. Every day. To get myself right. To see the world clearly. To take care of this myself – no, with my wife, not by myself any longer. To understand who I really am, and face the truth about myself and the world. This is the best plan, the greatest plan, the new plan. And this one is all up to me, right under my lose, all of my life..