In a high school essay about our future aspirations, I wrote that I didn’t want to be the best athlete, the wealthiest person in the world, president, or rule the earth in some other way. No, I only wanted to save the world.
So much for ambition.
Now nearing my mid-forties, I wonder how do you save the world if you can’t even save yourself?
It’s not that I am in grave peril for my life. At least, I don’t think so. The ongoing pandemic and the too many gained pounds aside.
It’s more that I’ve become so dishonest to myself that the person I want to be and the person that I am, are practically living on different planets.
Naturally, in the current situation, a lot is not alright for a lot of people. And naturally, I am making this about myself.
With the whole family being at home or together every single day since last March, even my imagination became so dense that it left. Why do anything anymore?
Why are people like that? Why do we die? Why do we live? Why?
And then we get up and plow along. Breakfast, school, meetings, lunch, meetings, emails, coffee (maybe), the same discussions, and no, I don’t have time to read a book or watch Netflix, emails, dinner, sleep, rewind.
The only thing that is progressing is time.
We are disappointed in the other people out there. “Out there,” meaning people on Twitter. They really should know better. Why are they so vile? Then we get back at them with equally vile comments.
We are living in bubbles. We always have. But the bubbles kept shrinking until now when we finally realize we are in a bubble of one.
So how to save the world?
By saving ourselves. By cleaning up our bubbles and by being honest primarily to ourselves. By not hating ourselves or others. By deciding that if you can’t start today, you won’t start tomorrow. I once wanted to start being better tomorrow. Tomorrow is now and yesterday was ten years ago.
I still believe I can save the world.