Lives of quiet desperation…

I just got back from two weeks of vacation.  I went home to the Black Hills of South Dakota where I rode my mountain bike.  To say it was great would be an understatement.  (More on mountain biking later.)

I usually ride with friends and/or family, but things did not work out for me to do that this time.  I rode every day, and I rode alone every time.  I know this sounds kind of sad, but looking back I see it was just what I needed.  It gave me time to think about life broadly and specifically: friends to family, work to church, recreation to entertainment–I turned it all (and more) over in my head.

Some people might think I am having a mid-life crisis.  I don’t agree; I think I am coming to terms with Thoreau’s quote: “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.”

More than any other, this quote challenges me to think about all the “settling” I have done in my life.  From work to church to home to relationships, I have sold out for the safe and easy life.  I rarely put myself in a position where I might face genuine risk.  I really do not like coming to this conclusion.  If I am honest, I have to conclude that I am very much a risk averse person.

I feel like my bike was a time machine that allowed my mind to travel roads familiar and forgotten…and ones still waiting to be discovered.  The problem is I wished I had another week on the time machine to sort all the raw thoughts out.

The biggest thing that I thought about had to do with my job.  I used to teach high school English.  I am now a technical writer working for a government contractor serving technical requirements at a remote sensing facility (i.e., satellite data).  It’s a great job, but like all things a person does for more than a few years, the challenge has faded and the routine has turned into drudgery.  This is especially true when I think how little impact I am having in a lasting way on humanity.  (At least when I was teaching I could see I was helping students become better writers, thinkers, and people.)

As I rode, I kept thinking about whether it was time to move on.  I feel a bit like a sophomore or junior in high school who is pondering their future.  “What should I do with my life?”  My problem / my blessing is that I like pretty much everything I try (as long as it’s in a physically safe setting).

We’ve all been challenged with the question: “If you could do anything in life with no risk of failure, what would you do?”

I pray it’s not a let down to write that in spite of all the raw ideas I had, this question and Thoreau’s quote are what stand out most in my mind.  I did not plot a course for my future (or even find the map for that matter).

Distance and time usually bring perspective to all things.  For the most part, my time away from my “real” life helped clear my mind and refocus my energy, although I am still wrestling with Thoreau’s challenge.

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