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| Backyard Beach Hut, Steve Brown 2025 |
The only thing you have to do in this life is die.
--Daniel Sanderson, Ph.D., CSAT
6:55
I had a full day today, including a telehealth appointment with my nephrologist. It felt significant that I had the appointment here in Death Valley. In 2022, when Marci and I first made the trip that provided the narrative structure of this book, I had recently been diagnosed with kidney disease, and because my father died of amyloidosis, there was a small, but still much greater than normal chance, that I might have the disease also. If I did, I wouldn't have much time left. So, when we set out on our journey, every now mattered. Our first stop was here. So, today it was meaningful to me to have my doctor visit from this place of silence that I had grown to know love so well.
Camp had spotty service, so I took the call at the visitor center. My doctor asked, "Why are you wearing that goofy hat and where are you at?" in a curious, teasing manner. It felt so good when I said I was in Death Valley to finish of a book I'd been working on for four years. I didn't add this, but it's a book I started writing, thinking it might be my way off passing a bit of myself onto grandchildren I would never see. It has taken much longer than I expected, but I am finally almost finished, and it feels great.
At some point, to really start living, you've got to stop listening to other voices, especially your own self-doubt, and be who you are meant to be without waiting for external proof to validate your claim to "I". Otherwise, you go down like so many others, burying your own dreams long before your body is in the ground, walking around half-dead in the numbness of being talked out of being who you are by people who only doubt you because they doubt themselves even more.
As I've journeyed through this book, I've learned it isn't even about the external, tangible rewards that can come from being who you are. It's peace in the moment. A master wood carver doesn't dream of gallery openings when he begins wittling sticks on his front porch. He just connects knife to wood and fingers his way through the possibilities intuitively until he knows he's arrived at something beautiful. If he stays true to his craft, the later shows at the gallery never change that. His connection is always to each new encounter with whatever piece of wood he is working with, almost literally, as he and the branch merge into one to create something new.
Most of life can be lived that way, moment by moment, once we realize everything but death is a choice. Work has to be done, bills should be paid, food and shelter provided, social interactions that we value maintained, but how we go about that is totally up to us. And even the moments of obligatory acts can be totally ours to own if we are aware of it. I can think about whatever I want while doing the dishes. That moment is truly mine always, even though I'm doing dishes for others and myself. Every moment is ours. But we usually don't live that way. We live reactively instead of proactively. Everything feels like an intrusion because we don't own our own moments. We give them away to the demands of others. We compromise away our life. That might be worth it if it was to help others realize their dreams. But usually that's not the case. Usually, we are being asked to join in other people's doubt and disillusionment, to support their fears. We are being asked to live low because they are too terrified to live high. "Get real, be realistic" are just subconscious cries of Please don't leave me behind. That's a normal reaction, and we can support those around us by sending reassurances that they are loved and needed, but we need to take "Get real, be realistic" for what it is: Please don't be free because I'm not.
Instead, we need to claim our freedom, and through our examples, show others they can do the same. And the world around us will probably listen long before our own families do. Psychologically, this makes sense. Those near us have the most to lose if we outgrow them. It's an irrational fear. They can grow right alongside us. Nobody has to lose. But the ego thrives on irrationality.
Just grow and reassure those around you the best you can that they are an important part of your life and stay steady to who you want to be. Shut out the noise.
Freedom isn't so much about changing what you're doing. It's about changing how you're thinking. It's important to do things for others. We are part of families and communities. For things to function, we will be asked to do things beyond what we feel is our reason for being. We will be asked that a lot, and the better we are at serving, the more we will be asked. Protecting some actual time for ourselves is valuable. Learning to say No is useful. However, it's more important to realize each moment is totally mine no matter what I agree to do. How I spend it has absolutely nothing to do with what I'm physically doing. No one should ever have to do this, but it is possible to be writing operas while working on a chain-gang. It is possible to be becoming a president, like Nelson Mandela did, while sitting in prison.
Our moments are ours to use totally as we wish no matter our current circumstance. They can be used for dreaming, planning, or becoming. I think most people are oriented that way, and that is definitely a good use of time. There is nothing wrong with wanting to accomplish something.
However, in the process of writing this book, I realized all I really want to do is be. My goal is now to become a professional exister. I want to learn to exist extremely well and record well in words what existing moment by moment is like for me. I want to know each moment of my life fully and completely. I'm opening up, little by little, to more and more moments, no matter what they are. A chore is only a chore if it is a chore in your mind. If you allow yourself to fully enter a moment, the chore-ness of an activity vanishes. Shoveling shit isn't shoveling shit if you're noticing the flies glistening as they buzz around in the sunlight. Shoveling shit isn't shoveling shit, if you're feeling the pull and growth in your arm muscles, tasting the salt as a drop of sweat runs off your nose, across your lip, and into the crack of your mouth. I would love to see this book published, but writing it is no longer about that. It's about learning to own all my moments and be open to discovering what those moments actually are and perhaps providing a path for others to do the same.
This journey began during a time I thought I might not have much time left. When I faced my own possible death, I didn't think about all of the things I had left undone. I absolutely didn't regret anything I'd done. I did worry a little the impact my death would have on my loved ones, but not too much. I had no illusions of my importance. I knew my family would survive just fine without me. We are built to carry on, and Marci and my boys are very capable. Mainly, all I wanted was to use the little time I had left well. Now that I realize I probably have as much time on earth as anyone my age, that hasn't changed. But what I'm learning is that it's not about what you're doing, but rather how you're experiencing what you're doing that matters. I would rather learn to live each moment well where I am currently at than chase perfect moments across the globe, although I'd like to do a little of that too. My favorite place is on a beach, and I definitely intend to walk more miles of cool, firm, wet sand in this life, but I've also created a beach-like environment in my backyard so that I can live close to those moments simply by stepping out my backdoor. To me, it's more of an accomplishment to live that beach-like life wherever I'm at than it is to actually move to a beach. If the beach is truly inside me, I don't need to be anywhere close to the sea to hear the waves thunder or see a sunlit seagull glide above the silver surf.
I want all moments in my life to carry the weight in my memory of a great vacation. Going to the supermarket should be a profound experience. And so, my only goal for the rest of my life is to exist extremely well no matter where I'm at or what I'm doing. I sometimes suck at that, but goals have a habit of becoming reality the minute you become determined to leave getting real, and being realistic behind for those who want nothing more out of life than doing time.
There's nothing to prove. Let them "Get real" and "Be realistic". Ignore the noise. Be.
