In Reference to a Fine Article by Doc Holliday
Doc. Abbie. Jack. Jules. Meg. Oliver. Zelda. Charlotte. I’ve probably missed somebody on this thread. Sorry.
I’ve followed this exchange hard all day; I think about this stuff a lot. Only just now (55 years old) beginning to feel like I have a handle on the direction my life could go. I went back to school when I was 40 because I was leading a stupid life, and got a bunch of degrees. Trying to do the right thing, you know? And what I learned is that I have a profound dislike for money, and a deep love for people (and their dogs, and horses (and cows)). And I’m good at … well, at fixing stuff, mostly. What I’m getting at (I think) is the disconnect between what I am good at and enjoy, and what I need to do in order to survive in an economic sense. I envy people who enjoy doing work that makes them money and do not also find money offensive to the touch.
Not judging. I am highly dysfunctional (somewhat a stone about my wife’s neck with the money thing) and reclusive.
One thing, though. I need you guys, at least some. I lean on your writing, your comments; the bits of life you live through Medium. So whatever you’re doing in your life? It’s really, really right. Because it pushes me and makes me think and engage, and helps me help people around me even more than I already do. I think I’m not the only one who can say this, and I don’t mean it in the “give lots of hearts” way the Medium encourages. However you’ve ended up living your life, it is a life that engages me, right here, and makes me a better person, for real, in the real-world life I struggle with every day. And I know that’s not precisely the thing you said in your post, Doc, but it’s still a good thing.
Your fluent, brilliant, self-deprecatory manifesto* resonates. It sits in that place where I’m trying to sort out my life and realizing that most of the dreams of my childhood were fostered by people who thought I would grow up and understand that they meant I had to pick a direction to be effective in. I didn’t get that part. I don’t understand. I am still stuck, believing I should keep reaching, keep … growing, not up but out, stretching for all the things. I realize, as I write, the influence you have (all of you). You’re reaching me, and I know I’m not alone.
Whatever you choose to do, thank you for what you’ve done.
*You know, it must be the season, as I am drafting such a thing myself.
