Where the Hell are you going? And why did you go there?

How appropriate that I started this blog three years ago and I'm just now finishing it up.

I do that with my blogs. I wait for inspiration to strike even if it takes three years...

I have to talk about something. Right now, November 9, 2015, I am in a rush! I am SO anxious to get back home that I am risking falling into the most dangerous habit of all. Routine. It's routine that kills hopes. It's routine that kills dreams. It's routine that kills us.

Moving/running fast will not make the earth spin any faster. In fact, it may make the world seem like it's moving slower. I know many people may assume they can force the effect of time flying by when you get busy by faking busy. Unfortunately, busy doesn't work that way. If you are busy with no business, time will drag.

I'm starting to realize this constant state of being in a rush may be common. Is it outside forces or some other anxiety that makes people move so fast with no direction. So fast, indeed, that we have just become larger versions of those children we would see acting out. I've see a lot of grown up Cartmans. And how do you tell an adult aged person they need to grow up? They have children. They pay bills, mostly on time. Or as Maya Angelou said, “Most people don't grow up. Most people age. They find parking spaces, honor their credit cards, get married, have children, and call that maturity. What that is, is aging.” And that's what most people believe growing up is about.

So, we've become a country of men and women barreling towards mid-life crises. Men and women 
are making it to 40 and 50 having done a bunch of stuff without any idea about why they did all that stuff. So much so, there is a $12 billion dollar industry devoted to finding out who the hell we are, where they hell we are going, and, maybe, why we've doing all this stuff. Unfortunately, by 40-50, we've created more ungrown ups, perpetuating the cycle of adults spiraling down the road to mid-life crisis.

When we are 18 to 25, we are excited. Concrete plans or not, we know we know everything and we know how to make all our hopes and dreams come true. So we do it. We try.We fail. We try again. We try some more. We keep shooting for the moon. And then, one day, we have to get a real job. 
For the majority of the week, we are working for someone. We travel to work. We move around for a respectable amount of hours. Then we travel home. Sometimes we're tired. Sometimes we're stressed. Sometimes we bring some work home. We repeat that a few times. Then the weekend is here. We get with our friends and talk about pretending to do stuff. We discuss our great/wack/zany/weird/wacky/creepy bosses/coworkers. We compare notes. Apparently, all office bathrooms look the same. And all of a sudden the weekend is over and we forgot to go to sleep, we were having so much fun with our friends. Now we have to do this work thing again, only tired. And we are officially looking forward to the next weekend.

Before we know it, this is the cycle. We live for the weekend. Eventually, vacations come. More stuff comes. We get more money we buy more stuff. We do more stuff. Coffee/caffeine/tea/meditation is introduced at some point. We start fitting things in on the weekends, the weekends get shorter, the work weeks seem longer but they start to fly by... One day, to you get an instant message from some douche bag you haven't spoken to since High School asking you to come to the 30 year reunion and write a book report about all the stuff you been doing. 

At first, we still have our hopes and dreams. Two or three came true but a thousand more are unfulfilled.Things seem to get easier. You're now officially 'humming along.' You don't even notice you are actually humming. There's a noise about you now. That noise is the sound of being busy. Now we are officially adults. We are like everyone else. We are busy.

Doing what?

Nothing.

We've started doing stuff because that's what adults do. Stuff. Buy stuff. Sell stuff. Cook stuff. Drink stuff. Eat stuff. Give stuff away. Have stuff. Hold stuff. Drive stuff. Play stuff. Love stuff. Hate stuff. See stuff. Hear stuff. Believe stuff. Praise stuff. Talk stuff... We're doing it! Sometimes we like the stuff. Sometimes we don't. But we're doing it. and we seem to be doing more and more stuff faster and faster.

We didn't notice the change. Now we are in a rushing. We are rushing everywhere.

I live in LA with some of the most laid back, 'content' people in the country. Put them behind the wheel of a car, they are speeding! Except from 4 pm to 8 pm, they are idling along cursing (sometimes under their breath...) about not being able to speed.  They forgot all the money they spent on the car and the sounds and the GPS and the TVs and Howard Stern on XM that they can't watch/listen to because they're in a rush, speeding.

I lived in New Orleans, the Big Easy. Until they want a drink. Hollering and screaming. Ordering five at a time, for themselves (maybe that was only me...). Paying/tipping extra to be first. Because they only have all night to get drunk. It's a holiday. (It's always a holiday in New Orleans) But they forgot they went out to unwind and ended up wound up over a drink...

All over the country, we have to park in front and be in the front of the line, get it first, see it first. We want our ticket to say #1. We have to see the movie/Netflix ASAP because some asshole is going to spoil it. We don't read the articles because the headline tells us the story. We don't read the instructions because we can figure it out (yeah right!). We're always running late because 'the hasty man always works twice' and we don't have time to figure out what that means because we're late and if we move fast enough like superman we can reverse time...
We can't.
We're stuck in the routine. It rarely changes. Our hopes and dreams are deferred. It's just the cycle. Over and over. And over and over. And we keep speeding through it because maybe we can squeeze a minute of life and Love and real living into it, one day...

And then we die.

If this is you and your life, stop. Give me five minutes. I know I wrote a lot and made you read.
A lot...
Take five minutes. For yourself. Be silent. Sit still. (THATS going to be SO hard) Try to do nothing.
(Except breath. You ain't suing my ass for your ass being a dumb ass...)

At the end of five minutes of nothing, ask yourself - Where the hell am I going?

Schedule another five minutes for tomorrow (or in two years because I know you're busy. with stuff...) and focus on the answer to that.

Seriously start with five minutes a day. Make sure you're rushing in the right direction. Review your mission.If you haven't, write your mission. Write out a trust. Write out a will.

Figure out where the Hell you are going or you are ONLY going to die and nothing else.

Try something new.
Live!