Carrie Classon
I was visiting the ocean for the first time. The sand was dry, and as the waves hit the beach, I would see which wave came up highest, and I would put a stick on the high-water mark.
I kept doing this. To my amazement, the record continued to be broken –not by every wave, but within a minute, a new wave would break in a place higher up on the beach. I kept moving the stick higher and higher up the beach. It was a very exciting game.
I didn’t learn about the tide until much later.
Somehow, the idea that the waves would simply be outdoing one another didn’t require an explanation at 8. And, of course, the notion of a lowering tide never entered my mind.
I was reminded of that this morning, and I wondered if I’ve ever gotten over playing my stick-on-the-beach game. Because I love to break records for myself. I love to write more and write faster, walk farther, get more done. I tally up every day by what I have accomplished. This might be because I write instead of having a real job, where my hours would be recorded or I would be given a performance review. Perhaps I need to reassure myself that typing away on my computer really is proper work.
But I have always done this – to a greater or lesser degree. I was once told by a reliable source (my brother-in-law) that I must never get a fitness tracker because watching the numbers click up for every step I took would become a mad compulsion.
I confess, my brother-in-law knows me well.
For someone who has never had any interest in competing with others, I am insatiably competitive with myself. I am always looking for the next wave to hit a higher point on the beach, and I always assume I can keep doing it. Up and up and up.
At some point, the tide has to go out. And that is a good thing, or the planet would be covered by water. (I’m not sure what being covered by water would look like, for me personally, but it doesn’t sound good.)
A friend recently asked a variation on the old question, “Would you rather be happy or rich?” by adding, “or content?” And everyone seemed to agree that contentment beat out happiness because it was lasting and stable, and happiness was so flighty.
I wasn’t so sure. A little dose of discontent is what spurs me to try new and harder things, to go a little further than I did the last time, to explore ideas outside the ones I already know. I don’t think any of this is bad. I told him I’d take happiness – even with its unreliable nature.
But sometimes, I need to recognize that the tide will go out, my stick will not move up and that is OK as well. I guess that would be contentment. At least it would be a rest.
Today I am looking at crazy words I wrote in the middle of the night, words that look as if they want to turn into a new book – and I have not quite finished the previous one. It seems like a little rest would be a better idea.
But maybe the tide is going up now, and it’s OK to play the stick game a little longer. I’m not a young person, after all, and the tide will not come up forever.
Till next time,
Carrie
