The last year has been a burn-out for me: too much travel, too much chasing money, too big of a push on the book, and far too little time with my family.
One of the things I've always feared is the sense that I'm continuing to do things in the same ways because I'm afraid to break out of the rut, because I can't imagine any other path.
I will admit: it was a huge mistake for us to move to Indiana from Rhode Island, and that decision was overwhelmingly my fault. My Dad had died and one of Vonne's relative had passed and we felt this need to get back to our roots, but as we've discovered, it makes very little sense to try to go home again. You're coming back to an image, not a reality--a memory primarily.
If I had thought about it more carefully, I would have kept us there in Rhode Island, avoided the expenses of moving (always underestimated), and figured out better and more clearly what I wanted to do with my life and career at that point.
I must be having a mid-life crisis. I'm the perfect age for it, and just finishing the book creates a natural space for it. You start getting messages from your 401k saying that when you retire in 2027, you can expect this much per month at your current holdings, and you stare at the paper and think to yourself: "That's it? I'm down to 20 years?"
Then there's your oldest getting her driving license and thinking about college and you're still filling out papers for the next adoption, and you ask yourself, "Why do this?"
But then you're at the pool with your younger kids and 60 minutes later you realize that you've gone down the 170-foot slide 12 times and jumped off the high dive maybe 20 times, and you say to yourself, "Why am I still like that at 46?"
Because if I were better in tune with that, I'd realize why I was signing those papers to adopt again. And maybe I should be more in tune with that, because, quite frankly, when the burn-out feeling wells up, I simply don't know what I'm chasing anymore.
I'm neither surprised nor dismayed to be thinking along these lines. I actually think it 's quite healthy. Plus it certainly beats the sort of stupid mistakes that get you divorced, because I am quite certain how I feel about my family.
So you catch yourself, as I often do in these long moments, perusing obituaries in the newspapers, trying to find the formula for the good life, and you keep wondering, "Am I missing something?"
I know it's not God, nor the love of a great person in a committed relationship that still thrills me, nor my kids, who bring me such joy that I can't think about them without smiling reflexively.
So what is it?
I have friends who live for triathalons, or sailing on the ocean, or learning some intricate craft. My favorite fantasy for a while has been the piano. I don't play well, but I love doing it.
Then you meet old friends who took different paths and you wonder if they cracked the code better. "If only I had stuck with that . . .," you say.
But then you remember why you didn't stick with that then, and yet you still wonder if you're missing some logic on sequencing, or every thing in its time and place.
One essential truth that has driven my choices for a while has been what Peter Drucker wrote about talent: figure out what you're good at and what you're bad at and spend all your time and resources getting better at what you're good at and don't spend any time or resources getting better at what you're bad at. Instead, outsource all that bullshit like crazy (and it's always bullshit to you).
So the key to periods of burn-out like this, I guess, is figuring out what you're best at right now--at this point in your time, and redirecting at that.
And I guess I'm not that sure what that is right now for me. I know I'm a good public speaker, but I don't know if just continuing that great skill and improving it is the best I can do. It's familiar enough, but I distrust such familiarity, as I just stated.
I know I like the writing, but in some areas it's getting too easy for me, also suggesting a rut. Maybe I need a lot more discomfort there. I mean, I can see why musicians fear putting out the same album over and over again. It's really dangerous to your creative soul.
Anyway, I know this: I don't want to be in Indiana much longer. The pollen here simply kills me, dominating my entire schedule. I gotta get back East, near the ocean, where the air is easier for me.
I will tell you: I wrote most of PNM and BFA before 0800. I wrote most of GP after noon. That's not me getting older. That's the reality of living here. It just feels unhealthy for me--just not right.
If that realization, plus the burn-out from the previous year, force some dramatic thinking and resulting change, then that is just what's required.
I guess I do understand Favre right now better than I care to admit ... so I'll pick up my stone and head back into my glass, highly-AC'd house, hoping I don't wake up with the usual headache come morning.
But again, the prompt is good, and here I think more like Ted Thompson, the Packers GM. Unemotionally, you have to always ask yourself, "Am I getting better or worse with the current package?" Because if I'm not getting better, you know what the alternative is.
I've written three big books. I was amazed to realize I could cut tens of thousands of words on Great Powers and still have a book as big as the first two. I also have a 200,000-word unpublished manuscript sitting around somewhere in my office, also non-fiction.
I was also amazed my wife wanted to give our piano to the kids' school, because I don't play it anymore.
And it all does get me wondering: What comes between now and retirement? And should I just go with that, or should I plot something radically different?
This is when I usually bring up becoming an Episcopalian priest with Vonne, but the former minister's daughter typically shoots that one down pretty fast. And if Favre truly is gone, then I probably should give up my fantasy of getting in football shape and walking into Packer training camp.
So what provides the trigger? The book does this or that? The right speech? Certain things go right and I make a lot of money?
I gotta admit: one of the main reasons why I never fantasize about going back in time across my life (reliving HS or something like that) is that I never find any one point in my life to suffer any deficit of big issues. It just always gets more complex, which is good, I guess, for someone like me--until it's trumped by something better.
Sometimes I wish I'd just have some medical wake-up call that would force the issue for me, but that's such a cop-out for somebody who lives by their mind--especially somebody who thinks strategically about the future.
And so I think harder, and keep running miles with my oldest son, letting him do most of the talking--out of necessity.