Life is What Happens…
… in-between the EXTREMES.
There’s no bigger truth. We all have our moments of extreme happiness and crippling sadness — when life hits harder than you think it has any right to. These will come because they are inevitable. You show me a life without true hardship and I’ll show you a liar on Instagram.
Extremes come far less frequently — and thankfully so. A lottery win, death of a loved one… From a positive or negative perspective, those leave a mark. And we can only handle so many. But, what generally determines our satisfaction in life is how satisfied we are with the everyday. With our normal.
This is where most of our life happens and where, I would say, our happiness resides.
This is most of your life, so instead of chasing that dragon to slay, make sure that the horse you’re riding on is dependable, the sword you have is sharp and that you’re riding in the right direction, each and every day. Dragons will come, but they won’t last, and you’ll have to keep riding.
Fatherhood or the idea of…
My two functioning eyes tend to look at stuff. I mean really look. Not your see and forget type of seeing, but my brain often goes on autopilot and likes to interpret what it is that I see unfolding.
A couple of days ago, while making coffee, my gaze stumbled upon my neighbor, a father of 3, the oldest being a scrawny kid who likes riding his scooter like a 20-something year old would. Fast.
His dad is a burly looking dude, shaved head and a loud muscle car — at first glance you could put him in your typical traditionalist Croatian male box. And you wouldn’t be all wrong. Probably a major part of the reason why the kid has a scooter, as well.
However, that day I just saw a dad.
As he was walking next to his son’s scooter, I noticed him making a sign of the cross and doing a quick prayer next to the scooter. It immediately hit me, the prayer was for the safety of his son on the road. For the scooter to drive straight and true, not hurt his son. But the care and emotion that went into that prayer was something unexpected for a man my mind had built and Alice in Chains put into a box.
I felt that this kid had a dad that cared, I felt happy that my view of that man got a little fucked up. I thought about my ideas on parenthood, I thought about fatherhood and what I thought it meant, and about my dad. How many times did he… well, my dad doesn’t pray, but yeah… how many times he cared, worried behind my back while I proceeded to do some crazy shit with my teenage friends… and then concluded two things.
One — I don’t know what it means to be a father yet, but I sure would like to find out some day. I too would like to pray on a scooter. Likely with no scooter in sight, and no traditional prayer, but you catch my drift.
Two, we are a lot more than people give us credit for. In the eyes of others, you are never truly who you believe to be. You are more or less, better or worse, but those who love you, love who you are for them. They are your glorious in-between. Each and every day. And through the extremes.
The sound of sports
I love the sound of all my sports. I fell in love with basketball because of its noises. I know it might sound crazy, but the ball bouncing off the floor creates a rhythm that was always soothing to me. Like the best hip hop beat to my Zen, mixed with squeaking sneakers and net swishing is why I could even watch basketball with my eyes closed. It’s why loud arenas are killing it.
In hockey, I adore the sound of the skate blades breaking, players changing direction, the puck bouncing off goalie pads or hitting a stick. The sound of every big hit still rattles in my chest. Baseball has that crack of the bat, when a conversation suddenly turns numb and everyone’s eyes immediately shift to the field. The unison of voices reaching a crescendo at Anfield when a ball hits the back of the net in football (soccer)… It’s a soundtrack of joy. In Formula 1? Come on, that one’s easy.
In life and in sports, just relax and listen. The reaction? Well, that just comes.
