The other day I was reading a bodybuilding and fitness forum
when I stumbled acrosssomethingthat really disturbed me.
It wasn’t so much the picture of the guy with biceps the
size of trashcans, but the headline written above him:
I’m so obsessed with success,
I barely smile.
That broke my heart a little. Probably because I saw a part
of myself in that post. Not so much the muscles, but the mentality.
I live in a city where eight million centers of the universe
are scrambling around town, building their personal real estate, froggering
their way to the front of the line.
And because of that, I’ve actually discovered a newfound pleasure
in reeling it in a bit.
Turns out, there’s more to life than being successful. Turns
out, it’s amazing how sublime and quiet and simple and weightless life can feel
when you’re not running around making it all the time.
With nothing to fear, nothing to lose, nothing to hide and
nothing to prove, you’re finally free to focus on the present. You can just be
here, now. You can shake off the cobwebs of the past while the future, which you
once perpetually gripped with quiet panic and tight anxious hands, can
disafuckingppear from plain sight. And from that place of joyful lucidity, there’s
actually room to pursue life’s more existential achievements.
Satisfaction. Wholeness. Meaning.
You’re building your existential
real estate, not just your biceps.