photo by Flood

Some days I wish I were a wise old sage, able to conjure the profoundest of philosophies to complement any moment or opportunity that might present itself. Or I wish I were like Wilson from “Home Improvement,” a human library filled with quotes that spanned centuries of the greatest thinkers throughout history. I see websites devoted to reflective quotes and their everyday application to our lives, I read stories of people who were seemingly inspired to do their life’s work by a brief passage in a book.

It’s inspiring to live with your mindset in these contemplative places, but I sometimes forget that nobody really lives in them 100% of the time. Try as I might, my roster of memorized quotes and their sources is slim, maybe a handful at best. So when I am trying to remember the right bit of condensed wisdom for the moment, I’ll silently chastise myself for not being a walking encyclopedia of thought. Or maybe I’ll reprimand myself for not applying one of my own recently formulated philosophies to one of life’s scenarios.

This might be because when I come across an idea that I really connect with on a deep level, I want to be able to hold onto that feeling forever. Those times that I say an enthusiastic “YES!” are times I want to keep at my disposal for the next time it directly pertains to my life. It’s as though I want to be in a constant state of epiphany. But an epiphany is by definition fleeting. It’s a moment, and moments—as with all things in life—don’t last forever.

So I have come to appreciate a pretty great little thing in life: the reminder. Well-placed reminders help an average guy like me (who can’t think like a scholar all day) add a thoughtful edge to daily life. Reminders help me pay it forward and keep the wisdom going, instead of just bottling it all up in my mind where it’s not always doing a whole lot of good. And now I know that there’s a pretty good reason why I can’t retain all of the smart, inspiring and insightful things I learn: because reminders are just one little but important part in the elaborate and undeniable network of human connection. Hearing that much needed reminder when I’m having a bad day isn’t important because of the fact that I can’t always remember said advice on my own; it’s important because I get to hear it again from someone else. Not only does that help it ring true a little more, but it inspires me to pass it along. It’s a tiny confirmation of my place in the universe, not to sound too grandiose.

And so I’ll keep trying to retain all of the great things I hear, mind as much like a steel trap as possible. But I certainly won’t speak poetry every time I open my mouth (or very often at all). Most of the time I need someone else to do that for me.

So today I’m happy to announce a new musical venture I’m calling E8 (the website is at e8music.com). I just finished the first 4-song EP called “Vignette,” which you can listen to below. I’m letting you name your own price to download high-quality mp3s, but I put no minimum so by all means feel free to grab ‘em for free—any way to spread the music is a good thing in my book. (Alternatively, you can probably just listen endlessly on Bandcamp for free, but that’s far less convenient in the long run.)

I’m excited about the future of this project in addition to my ongoing solo work. And if you like what you hear, please share it with others you think might enjoy it. More to come soon. Thanks for listening.

Well, today I’m going to share something with you that did not come from a day like that. This particular day started something more like this: “I feel like doing something completely ridiculous that has nothing to do with anything.” So I created “Psycho Wars.”

What ends in randomness starts in randomness. I was inspired to listen to the score from the classic Hitchcock film Psycho for no particular reason one day. As it played, two things struck me: 1) the eerie, legato string theme didn’t last nearly long enough, and 2) it would also make for an awesome electronic remix. This little thought stayed in the back of my mind for a couple weeks until the fateful day came that I described above. It was time to fulfill the prophecy.

Halfway through the project, I started getting a theme from Star Wars stuck in my head (it’s the music that plays while they dogfight in X-wings, for your nerd reference). I thought, hey, that would also be a good remix candidate. Maybe I should do that next.

Or…

Why make all that work for myself when I could just combine it with the project I had already started? So I did. And voila, “Psycho Wars” was born. I hope you enjoy listening to it as much as I enjoyed making it.

photo by Eric Vanderpool

Perfection is what you get when you stop expecting it of yourself. I didn’t always think this, though. Until recently, I spent most of my life fancying myself a perfectionist. I took pride in my opinion that over the course of one short life, the only way to truly reach your full potential was to strive for nothing less than perfection in everything you can possibly control. There was just no point in living any other way.

(Quick side story: my high school physics teacher once asked me if there was anything I didn’t have an opinion on. I told him that there was no point in living life if you don’t have an opinion on every single thing. I’ve since softened my stance on that quite a bit, but you can see what many of my teachers had to deal with.)

As usual, I was wrong, and things are much simpler than I even imagined. Being a perfectionist is actually not a desirable quality for two primary reasons:

1) It’s impossible to achieve perfection, especially all the time.
2) Basing your sense of self-worth on achieving the impossible means that you’ll never really be satisfied with yourself.

Oh, but you’re an artist and you don’t want to be satisfied or else you’ll lose your drive and ability to keep making better art than you have already! This is where I cough into my hand and say “bullshit” in an obvious and condescending manner. I can do this, because I’m an artist too. (I can also do it because this is my blog and I can do whatever the hell I want.) And after years and years of living creatively in the perfectionist mindset, I now believe that if you need that sort of motivation to inspire you to do great work, then you’re not much of an artist. Sorry. Or, maybe you’re a great artist who just has their priorities mixed up. If that’s the case, there’s plenty of hope for you yet!

There’s hope for us all, though. Because life has never been, and will never be, about the pursuit of perfection any more than it is about the pursuit of seeing a unicorn. Sometimes you just have to let go and allow yourself to be less than your best. Sometimes you have a shitty day and you have to just let it happen. You have to embrace your imperfections and flaws as part of what makes you you.

It’s only when you do this that you acknowledge that you are human, and the moment you get in touch with your own humanity is when you wind up being the best person—and artist—you’ve ever been. When that humanity allows you to connect with others in their humanity, well that’s an added bonus. And that’s perfection. Perfection in imperfection. If that doesn’t inspire you to create amazing art or live an incredible life, I don’t know what will.

Who cares if everything’s not perfect? It never will be. And that’s the beauty of it all.

photo by ccharmon

In the book Food Rules, author Michael Pollan realizes he can summarize everything we should know about eating well in a paltry seven words: Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.

Pithy. Succinct. Easy to remember. Most importantly, true. The rest of the book elaborates on those seven words, but the bottom line is that an issue like nutrition that has become overly complex in today’s society can generally be summed up in a single, incredibly simple phrase. (It reminds me of a funny George Carlin bit where he boils the ten commandments down into two general rules that encompass the spirit of them all.)

Naturally, I surmised that there must be a way to sum up all of the ideologies and methodologies of living a happy and fulfilling life in a similar way. Undoubtedly there is a way to take the most relevant and true aspects of all the millions of pages written on philosophy, religion, self-help (which I had a few things to say about in my previous post), and every other path to happiness and reduce them down to a simple axiom that was both impossible to forget and universally applicable.

Realistically, it could probably be summed up in the phrase “Don’t be a dick,” but I wanted to find something that was a little more poetic than that. I’m no scholar, but I have spent plenty of time learning about the many philosophies and value systems of the world, so I felt reasonably well-equipped for the task. Besides, I wanted something effortless and universal. Solutions like this have to be easily within anyone’s grasp, regardless of educational background or life experience. I was slightly taken aback to discover that it didn’t take me very long to come up with something that I was pretty satisfied with.

First of all, it had to emphasize living in the moment. It had to be about mindfulness, being present, living with intention, knowing we can create our world with our reactions and mindsets, simplifying, some level of detachment from material things, appreciation and gratefulness. All these big, transcendent concepts could be said in a mere two words: Live now.

Second, I wanted it to highlight the importance of having a spirit of exploration and wonder. That we should strive to keep learning from ourselves, from others, and from the world. To know we are all students of life and live in a complex and incredible universe. We should enthusiastically pursue our passions, see life as the miracle it is, take in the beauty that surrounds us every day, feel excited by opportunity, inspired by creativity, and live our lives with respect for something that is so much greater than ourselves. Really, this sort of reverence can be written with three letters: Awe.

Last, but certainly not least, there needed to be a whole lot of lovin’ going on. Love for family, friends and strangers. Love that reminds us to give of ourselves. Love that creates understanding, patience, selflessness, peacefulness and consideration. Love that forges a strong connection with others, and love for ourselves so that we can forgive our own flaws and misdeeds, live a life of balance and good health, know what’s best for ourselves (and others), embrace imperfection and accept who we are. Once again, a single word is all we need to encompass all of this: Compassion.

And so, I one-upped Michael Pollan by saying, in just six words, all we really need to know in life:

Live now, with awe and compassion.

Simple. Kind of beautiful in its simplicity, in my opinion. Of course, you could swap out synonyms if you want (maybe you prefer “wonder” or “reverence” to awe), but the specific words aren’t as important as the message. After thinking it over, I’ve found that just about every important concept in my life is covered by one of these three things. If it doesn’t fit in, it’s probably not actually that important. So there it is: six words to live by. Its implications could fill a hundred novels, but you can fit it inside a fortune cookie. It’s like the universe in the palm of my hand, and that makes me feel like it’s all a little more within my grasp. Suddenly the world doesn’t look so big and scary anymore.

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The Self-Help Delusion

We Are All Artists

photo by funky_abstract

I think it’s time to get over this whole “self help” thing. There is an entire industry based around telling us that they have the elusive secret to happiness, that if you just read this book, watch that video, do these exercises, or think this way you can become a better, fuller person. I’ve read a lot of stuff like this, and even though I appreciate good advice, I’ve come to almost resent the whole idea of “self improvement.” I resent it because it tricked me into putting my energy towards trying to find something that I had all along.

You know those cheesy maxims that say you’re already perfect the way you are? It turns out they’re right. And if they’re right, that pretty much negates the whole business of helping you improve yourself. How can you improve on perfection? Thing is, you’ll never be satisfied if you’re bent on self-improvement. If you’re anything of a perfectionist, you’ll never be good enough. How can that be healthy? You’re not a work in progress. You’re a human being living a life in progress. You don’t have to work toward being a complete person, hoping you can achieve that fullness someday. You have it now. You just have to make the decision to recognize that.

Of course, if you’re already perfect then how can you explain all those bad habits you’d like to be rid of? Well, just because you’re perfect doesn’t mean you can never—or should never—change. Things are always changing. That’s how life is. And it’s in this seeming contradiction, that you’re already perfect but you should embrace change in yourself, that we can find the key distinction that shatters the fragile framework of “self-help.”

I think it’s as simple as changing one key word: Evolve, don’t improve.

That makes the most sense to me, but how exactly does one do this? How can we strive for our own evolution without falling into the many traps of seeking self-improvement? In my experience (and I’m only an expert on my own life, but aren’t we all), there are a few good ways to hop on the evolution train:

1. Get to know who you really are. This sounds simple, but it may take a lot of soul-searching and genuine effort. I only feel like I actually achieved this within the last year or two of my life. When you have a firm grasp on who you are, you will have a much better idea of what you really want. And when you know what you want, whatever that may be, you have the framework for your entire life. I wish I had some insightful thing to say about how to figure out who you are, but it’s probably different for everyone. It took me years of whittling away the things that I was not in order to find who I am. It may very well be a much easier task for someone who really has their shit together.

2. Make a point to live in the now. Also not always the easiest thing to do, but incredibly important nonetheless. Don’t spend your time regretting the past or worrying too much about the future. Now is all we have, so live in it, be grateful and appreciative that it exists. Your purpose in life has nothing to do with what you were or what you will be. They’re just figments of your imagination in the now.

3. Make the decision. Make the decision to forgive yourself for your shortcomings. Make the decision to learn from your mistakes. Make the decision to do what you love to do. Make the decision to be grateful for what you have. Make the decision to be happy. Sound simple? It actually is. Not always easy, to be clear… But simple.

When you do these three things, you have control over your life. Not complete control over everything that happens, which is obviously impossible. But you control your destiny. You control your outlook on life. You understand how you feel about things, you control how you react to situations. And you can be happy right here, right now, just as you are, with no need for improvement.

One of my favorite TED talks is by Nic Marks. He set out to find the true measurement of happiness and came up with five things that generally make people feel fulfilled: connect, stay active, keep learning, take notice, and give. I think this is an superbly simple summary of how little it actually takes for a person to be happy, and it didn’t fill a self-help book. It doesn’t even fill a paragraph. It’s five simple things to think about every day without beating yourself up over the constant need to be “better.” There’s no need to plan or construct a grand scheme that you will someday have the self-discipline to carry out.

No one can be happy all day every day. So do what you can to learn about yourself and strive for fulfillment over constant happiness. Evolve and grow, don’t improve. Save the money you would have spent on self-help books and buy yourself a nice dinner. Or buy me dinner. I’m free tonight.

Related Posts:

Don’t Tell Me How to Be Happy

Do What You Hate to Do (For a Little While)

Now Is All That Matters

photo by prawnpie

I’ve been called cynical a good number of times in my life. Most of these times were when I was a little younger, particularly in my teenage years when I wore the label as something of a badge of honor. I believed that cynical people weren’t deserving of criticism because they simply saw things for what they really are, which just happened to be a harsher view than the average person. I felt as though being called cynical was really just a way of saying that I thought differently and saw clearly. I was proud of that.

These days, I try to distance myself from the term when I can because I recognize the negative edge that cynicism can have. Now I generally think in much more positive terms (or at least I try to), and consequently I’m far more aware of when negativity creeps into my thoughts and words. I think it’s true that being an authentically hardened cynic can genuinely be detrimental to a person’s life experience (or at least diminish the enjoyment one can have in their life, even if they don’t realize it). Still, every now and again I run into the cynic label and have to address whether I’m being misunderstood or if it’s coming from the tiny cynic that’s still hiding deep inside me, rearing its ugly little head. But I think I’ve pinpointed a key distinction that draws a practical line in the sands of cynicism.

Cynicism is about actions more than thoughts. It’s about intentions rather than descriptions. It’s about attitude over realism.

Often people are accused of being cynics for simply recognizing the cold, hard truth. When you see some of the world’s harsh realities, addressing them matter-of-factly may not always yield the most optimistic, uplifting, sunshine-and-rainbows outlook. But that’s not cynicism in and of itself. Recognizing reality as it appears can’t be labeled as anything but being realistic and rational. It’s how you let that rationality affect you—your actions, your intentions, your values—that can determine whether or not you’re a true cynic. Cynicism isn’t the harsh opinions themselves so much as their manifestation in negative, critical or hopeless ways. In this case, it’s not the thought that counts. Cynicism is action.

And that’s where I distinguish where I am today. Yes, I sometimes assess the world around me and come to a cold conclusion or two. I often look at a given situation or idea with a healthy dose of skepticism. But I am not the cynic that I once was. Because my core values and intentions are full of hope, positivity and love. And I’m pretty pleased with that balance. It keeps me grounded, but it keeps me on my toes as well. Like I’ve said before, life is all about keeping your feet on the ground and your head in the clouds. Paradoxical as that may seem, it’s the only way I know how to live, and striking that balance is what I attempt to do every day.

photo by mpeterke

Modern science can do some amazing things. The technology we use every day is the result of centuries of research, discovery, and ingenuity. The observations and experiments we’ve made allow us to probe the outer limits of our imaginations and understand how the universe works to an incredible degree of accuracy. In order for all of this to be possible, thousands of people have devoted their lives to asking the big questions, searching for the life-changing answers, and going out on the longest of limbs.

Consequently, there are many people who have devoted the better part of their lives to a complete failure, whether it’s an idea that never comes to fruition, a discovery that’s made by someone else first, or a theory that ultimately leads nowhere. Naturally, we only really hear about the successes, so it’s easy to forget the trail of failed destruction that those success stories have clawed their way through. Even the successful people themselves have a seemingly countless number of stories of their own previous failures.

But the reality is that there are a good number of people out there who wind up committing almost their entire lives to a mistake. For example, there are thousands of theoretical physicists today devoting their lives to figuring out if string theory is the ultimate unifying theory of the universe. While it could turn out to be the answer, there’s also a possibility that it’s not, meaning that all these great minds have dedicated all their time to calculations that lead nowhere.

A success could mean they’ve contributed to something that literally changes everything we know about the universe. A failure could mean immeasurable lost time and resources that could have been used working towards a correct understanding of our world, or towards innovations and discoveries that could save lives, not to mention the lost money spent on building costly lab equipment and experiments.

This isn’t limited to scientists, of course. In many ways we all risk the same mistakes in our own lives—pursuing a dead-end career, being in a long-term relationship that turns out to be a lie, losing our life’s savings in a scam, putting everything we have into what eventually leads to a dead end. But I don’t think any of it really is a mistake, even if things don’t pan out the way we pictured or hoped for ourselves.

Pursuing a wild idea or passion is worth the risk, just in case it really is the right thing to do. More importantly, it’s worth the risk of being wrong because it gets us one step closer to the truth, one step closer to what we should be doing. Someone has to determine it was wrong in order for it to be ruled out. Sometimes that someone is a scientist narrowing down crazy theories. Sometimes that someone can only be ourselves, stumbling our way through life to find our true calling and purpose. Perhaps most importantly, it’s never a mistake when someone pursues something with passion, love and dedication. It’s never a mistake when you put all of yourself into a project or pursuit. The end result is basically irrelevant if you measure your life by what you put into it. If you only assess something’s worth in the end result, you’ll wind up saying that almost everything is a failure because it doesn’t last forever or it doesn’t achieve every single thing you set out to achieve. That’s an easy recipe for constant dissatisfaction in life.

We can’t know for sure if the risks we take will lead us where we want to go. All we can do is embrace our lives 100% while we live them. Many times, the end result will not be what we planned or hoped for. But if it were, life would be pretty boring. If you’re faced with disappointment, you learn, you pick yourself back up, and you throw yourself fully into something else. The notion of running against the clock is an illusion—it’s never too late to figure it all out. What “it” is will keep changing, anyway.

You can’t win ‘em all. Sometimes you can’t even win the vast majority. But I’ve come to realize that a lot of the time, one win is all you need. So I’ve decided to just go for it. Whether I’m right or wrong, I’m doing humanity and myself a service, because the world needs people to be doing what they love. Who cares about the end result?

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Do What You Hate To Do (For a Little While)

Persistence and Rejection

photo by Images_of_Money

I was very fortunate to have grown up in relative comfort as a kid. While my family wasn’t exactly wealthy, there was never a question of whether there would be food on the table or bills would be paid. I was encouraged not to live wastefully and to be smart with my money, but it was never a situation where we were conserving energy for fear that we wouldn’t be able to cover the electric bill.

Then I went to college.

Many of us get a pretty good dose of living the “poor college student” life, then graduate to join a workforce that pays a reasonable—if modest at first—salary and holds the promise of future growth and prosperity. But I didn’t do what most people do. I chose to pursue the artist’s life, one that all too often lives up to its “starving” cliche.

And so I’ve spent the better part of my 20s being poor. Sometimes it’s been broke-ass, knee deep in credit card debt, holy-shit-what-am-I-going-to-do-about-rent poor. Other times I’ve done OK, but anything beyond basic needs and a few small luxuries here and there has been out of the question. It didn’t help that I lived in two of the most expensive cities in the country (Boston and Los Angeles) from college onward.

As with any situation, I’ve tried to make the best of it whenever possible. Looking back, I think I’ve learned some valuable lessons from being poor. Some of them are in tune with the old “money doesn’t buy happiness” adage, while others are the result of the harsh realities of living paycheck to paycheck. Here are some of the things I’ve learned:

Being poor makes you crafty and clever. You often have to get creative when you don’t have much money. I’ve seen some of the most creative DIY projects made by college students who couldn’t afford the normal, store-bought versions of appliances or gadgets. (Just do a web search for DIY air conditioners.) Sometimes these solutions are way more satisfying because of the ingenuity you put into them. Sometimes they are completely unsatisfying and you just wish you had the real thing.

I don’t need much to get by. I’ve proven that I can do without many things like a smart phone, cable TV, etc. Society is set up in such away that it makes us want more than we actually need, to the point that we really believe we need all these extra things. But I’ve learned to narrow down the list to the few things that really do give me satisfaction, occasionally by living without something and realizing that I really do want it around. Sometimes the key is simply resisting that initial urge to buy a cool, new thing. It usually just goes away after a while. Besides, something even better is just going to come along later, anyway.

Some things aren’t worth skimping on. Food, for example, was one of these things for me. Even when I wasn’t that interested in eating healthy, it never seemed worth it to me to tighten my wallet when it came to food shopping. I’d try to shop smart, for sure, but I wouldn’t buy shitty food just because it was cheaper. Cutting down on eating out at restaurants was a much better idea.

Being in debt sucks. Borrowing sucks, too, even if you’re not expected to pay someone back. There’s no way around this.

Not having stuff that everyone else has makes you really appreciate it when you do have something. I resisted getting a smartphone for years because I knew I couldn’t afford the more expensive plan. I proved to myself that I didn’t absolutely need one, and now that I have an iPhone I appreciate the hell out of the things that I find genuinely useful.

Convenience is a luxury. Some things I didn’t have as a kid but have now are super convenient, but they haven’t actually changed my quality of life that much. I remember when I had to take a bulky discman, batteries and CDs along with me any time I took a trip somewhere. That certainly was less convenient than an iPod, but I’m not really any better off today as a person with that added convenience. It’s very nice for sure, but if people could be happy back when they only had record players and radios, I can’t really say my life is particularly enriched from these conveniences.

It’s a lot less stressful to go out with friends and socialize when you’re not worried about how much money it is to buy alcohol, gas, movie tickets, etc. It is so much more fun and relaxed to enjoy a Friday night with my friends when my heart doesn’t drop every time I pay $7 for a beer or $12 for a movie.

Money indeed cannot buy happiness, but it can buy freedom and comfort. Billionaire Mark Cuban once said that he was perfectly happy back when he was poor. For a while I didn’t believe him—how could someone who has clearly worked so hard to get so much money possibly have not cared about being poor? But I realized that even if he was working toward success and money, what we will be later has nothing to do with what we are now. He wasn’t focused on what he didn’t have when he was poor; he was enjoying what he did have while throwing himself into projects that eventually panned out and made him a ton of money.

The only thing I genuinely look forward to in the prospect of making money is the freedom it can give me: freedom to not stress about paying rent, freedom to take time off or even quit a job to pursue a creative project, freedom to travel the world and experience all it has to offer. But even these things can be done without money if you just get creative.

Happiness is a choice, so I’ve chosen to be happy instead of saying that I would be just a little happier once I got back on my feet financially. That kind of thinking is toxic. Money is a reality that we all have to face whether we like it or not, but it has no more to do with us as people than the things we buy with it. My iPhone sure is convenient, and I can do a lot of cool stuff with it. But I can have a fucking blast living my life without it.

photo by ToniVC

“Nothing is worth more than this day.”
–Goethe

I was staring irrelevance straight in the face, and I didn’t like it. The conversation began innocently enough: We’re in an interesting time musically, I was explaining to a friend, because popular music as we know it was created at a time that has allowed us to see an amazing amount of creative innovation, but recently enough that we don’t have to be completely overwhelmed with the amount of music we could potentially explore as listeners and performers. (Though sometimes I still do feel overwhelmed when trying to cover enough musical ground to feel as though my grasp of music history is reasonably comprehensive.)

I told my friend that with the Internet allowing thousands of indie and self-released artists to find their way into my listening space these days, I do find it challenging to keep up to date with the trends. Imagine, I postulated, how hard it will be to feel encyclopedic about music in 50 or 100 years. There won’t be enough hours in the day; there will just be too much music to sift through. You could never feel like you’ve been exhaustive in your listening experience. I’d be so stressed about hearing as much music as possible and connecting all the dots that I’d probably never relax enough to actually enjoy the music I did hear. I sure am glad I live now and not then, I told him. What a privilege it is!

I sat there feeling satisfied by my position in the universe when he lobbed the bomb at me: “In 50 or 100 years, it won’t matter. None of the music that’s important now will have the same importance then. It will be as relevant as the music from the 19th century is today.”

I was a little taken aback that I hadn’t really thought of that (how self aggrandizing I had been), but realized it was true. The most relevant music from today will wind up being the Claude Debussy or the Robert Johnson of tomorrow—important and influential in a historic context, but representing an entire era of music among a select handful of names that would be selected to fit into a textbook paragraph. Unless I made a musical contribution in the same ballpark as the Beatles, I’d be all but guaranteed to be completely forgotten, a distant memory of time.

Sonofabitch. He was right.

Of course, this doesn’t just apply to music. For the most part, everything I do will mean absolutely nothing a century after I’m gone. Every atom in my body will be repurposed somewhere else in the universe and the better part of my existence will be reduced to little more than a few vague ancestral anecdotes. Kinda depressing, I thought to myself. What the hell is the point?

But soon my train of thought took its usual twist, and a cold but realistic observation was turned into a much warmer personal lesson. Yes, it’s true that what I do with myself probably won’t matter a whole lot in the long run (even if I do write a timeless, classic song or establish a successful charitable foundation). But there is one time that my actions and intentions definitely do matter: right now. And therein lies the simplest of lessons. Now is all that matters, and because of that, now actually matters quite a bit. If ever we need a reminder of that, all we have to do is start peering into the distant future or digging into the past and try to find ourselves. I exist here right now, and no other time. So there is nothing more valuable than the here and now; nothing is worth more than this day.

If there’s nothing I can do that is guaranteed to last forever, then that means I have a single purpose: to do exactly what I’m doing right now, whatever that is, and do it with conviction. At this exact moment (as I type) my purpose is to write this blog post. Later on tonight my purpose will be to clean some dishes. If I don’t like what I’m doing, I can change it. If I can’t change it, then I can accept its inevitability, I can make the best of it, and I can try to truly live in that moment. Because it’s all I have. Of course, I’ll still spend many of my “now” times trying to accomplish great things, but even the greatest of artists and the wisest of men can’t do that during every waking moment. So whatever I’m doing right now is exactly what I’m meant to be doing. That’s what my life is all about.