I’m re-thinking this, be all you can be, find your highest potential, explore your limits, hogwash. The wisdom of Joe Rowling, fellow river rat and Wisconsin wonderkund-kid keeps coming back to taunt me. Joe, zinc oxide always plastered across his city-boy-white nose, a goofy Gillagan’s Island straw hat on his head, said you should never get into shape so you don’t ever have to worry about getting out of shape. So you know, this wasn't coming from some loser--Joe was the best most improbable yet adequately able river guide there ever sometimes was.
He would slightly less than whole heartedly agree with me that it’s best to stay a bit pudgy, somewhat pale, slightly greasy and settle for just enough of everything to live moderately above the poverty level. And, he would nod unenthusiastically that on a good day we should shoot for just a bit less than the sure thing, expect the worse yet plan for something slightly better, and to always look on the side that faces you and steer clear of any bright sides.
I mean isn't it much more engaging and romantic to be able to just look at what others are doing and say–“Hell, I could do that.” “You call that art?” “Piece of cake.” “I’ve seen bigger balls on a pygmy possum.” “Why don’t I?–Why bother?--Hey, I’m fine where I am,” and last but not exactly, the least, “I could a if I wanted ta, I just don’t wanna.”
In fact, if he wanted to, Joe would’ve probably made millions of dollars going into business with me almost printing up t-shirts with slogans like: Slow Guts No Gory; Less is Never More & We Want it That Way; No Need for Speed; Never Gain If It Requires Pain; When the Going Get’s Tough The Smart Go To Bed.
Finally, Joe would possibly give me an ovation if I’d do the standing and half-hearted clapping myself, and if he had the interest in listening to me exhort: don’t ever go the extra mile; definitely do not take the road less traveled; and never ever, except on the pain of death, follow your dreams.
And why? Because 90% of all fatalities, catastrophic property losses and relationship blowouts occur during the extra mile, 97% of the time the road is less traveled because it leads to a dumpy little place next to a toxic waste dump where for entertainment its five residents watch tar drip; and don’t follow your dreams because they were never really that cool since you were either asleep, drunk or sick when you had them you never had the capacity to follow them any way, and if you did manage to follow them to their very end you had to ask: Is that all there is? Is that all I’ve got? And then you had to answer: Yes, that is all there is, and that is all I have got, and it’s all I ever had and ever will have.
Where’s the mystery and glory in that? There isn't any. So leave something in reserve. Besides, if you would just ignore them, dreams should be like butterflies that just come and land on your shoulder. Why should you chase them? Better--make them chase you. So, if you hear about the best restaurant with the best food ever, avoid it like the plague. If you hear about some technique for the most exquisite sex, the most intimate relationship–burn it. Don’t put that kind of pressure on yourself. Who wants the burden of knowing it will never get any better.
This will allow you to live in a state of continuous anticipation with a sure knowledge that your best is yet to come, that Santa will always be on his way, and that America is a place where we are exceptional and never do anything wrong.
Then you’ll never have to confront the pain of knowing you gave it your very best but your best wasn't good enough, and you’ll never wonder if what you have could be any better.
So when I die, my epitaph should read:
Here Lies a Man Whose Best Was Yet to Come, Who Was More Than Likely A Famous Genius and A Great Leader but Who Chose to Live a Modest, Humble Life of Mysterious Mediocrity.
Loren M. Lambert © April 22, 2014
He would slightly less than whole heartedly agree with me that it’s best to stay a bit pudgy, somewhat pale, slightly greasy and settle for just enough of everything to live moderately above the poverty level. And, he would nod unenthusiastically that on a good day we should shoot for just a bit less than the sure thing, expect the worse yet plan for something slightly better, and to always look on the side that faces you and steer clear of any bright sides.
I mean isn't it much more engaging and romantic to be able to just look at what others are doing and say–“Hell, I could do that.” “You call that art?” “Piece of cake.” “I’ve seen bigger balls on a pygmy possum.” “Why don’t I?–Why bother?--Hey, I’m fine where I am,” and last but not exactly, the least, “I could a if I wanted ta, I just don’t wanna.”
In fact, if he wanted to, Joe would’ve probably made millions of dollars going into business with me almost printing up t-shirts with slogans like: Slow Guts No Gory; Less is Never More & We Want it That Way; No Need for Speed; Never Gain If It Requires Pain; When the Going Get’s Tough The Smart Go To Bed.
Finally, Joe would possibly give me an ovation if I’d do the standing and half-hearted clapping myself, and if he had the interest in listening to me exhort: don’t ever go the extra mile; definitely do not take the road less traveled; and never ever, except on the pain of death, follow your dreams.
And why? Because 90% of all fatalities, catastrophic property losses and relationship blowouts occur during the extra mile, 97% of the time the road is less traveled because it leads to a dumpy little place next to a toxic waste dump where for entertainment its five residents watch tar drip; and don’t follow your dreams because they were never really that cool since you were either asleep, drunk or sick when you had them you never had the capacity to follow them any way, and if you did manage to follow them to their very end you had to ask: Is that all there is? Is that all I’ve got? And then you had to answer: Yes, that is all there is, and that is all I have got, and it’s all I ever had and ever will have.
Where’s the mystery and glory in that? There isn't any. So leave something in reserve. Besides, if you would just ignore them, dreams should be like butterflies that just come and land on your shoulder. Why should you chase them? Better--make them chase you. So, if you hear about the best restaurant with the best food ever, avoid it like the plague. If you hear about some technique for the most exquisite sex, the most intimate relationship–burn it. Don’t put that kind of pressure on yourself. Who wants the burden of knowing it will never get any better.
This will allow you to live in a state of continuous anticipation with a sure knowledge that your best is yet to come, that Santa will always be on his way, and that America is a place where we are exceptional and never do anything wrong.
Then you’ll never have to confront the pain of knowing you gave it your very best but your best wasn't good enough, and you’ll never wonder if what you have could be any better.
So when I die, my epitaph should read:
Here Lies a Man Whose Best Was Yet to Come, Who Was More Than Likely A Famous Genius and A Great Leader but Who Chose to Live a Modest, Humble Life of Mysterious Mediocrity.
Loren M. Lambert © April 22, 2014
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