True Life

Big things, small packages

2009-12-17T11:51:48-06:00

Is it age or experience? I don't know if I am willing to go so far as to claim "wisdom". But what is the catalyst for the realization that the biggest things in life--the most important ones, at least--happen in the smallest and quietest ways?

In spite of knowing for the last 24 years that "Success is not a destination' it's a journey," I've continued to pursue the moment. That thing out there, presumably that tells me that I've arrived. Personal, professional. What have you. And when this arrival happened, there must be some sort of ticker tape parade or something. Right? And the feeling--man, oh man!--the feeling of the moment would linger. I could hold onto it for the rest of my life, knowing. Content in that knowing. Complete.

Uh huh. Sure.

Because that's not the way it works, is it? Moments don't linger. They come and go. When they're gone, that's it. Onto the next thing. Makes chasing that moment a little silly, huh? Because what is it? It's a myth, that's what it is.

Success can't be a destination because destinations are kinda nothings.

I went to the Grand Canyon this past October. I hiked out to the rim and stood there for, like, 10 minutes. That was my arrival. And then I hiked back to camp. Yes..it was a great 10 minutes--one that I'd looked forward to since I was a kid. But the moment, itself, was small. Just Lori and me standing there. A couple of "Wows" and a picture or two on my iPhone. No big deal. And then it was done.

Yet, it was somehow greatly satisfying.

That's because getting to the Grand Canyon, I think, was the big deal. Everything around it. And the small moment at the canyon's edge was really special in terms of how it related to all the other stuff. The getting there, which was far more than half the fun. I mean, on one hand, it was a moment 25 years in the making. That's a journey of the "holy crap!" magnitude.

Standing there at the edge of the canyon together, we looked at each other. We knew we'd arrived, figuratively as well as literally. Finally. That was...huge.

I guess my point is that I am realizing every time I have pushed for the big moment, the big deal, and held that moment on a pedestal, I've been disappointed. The moment never seemed as important as I'd made it out to be. And I'd have it, go to bed, and wake up the next morning and I'd still have to pee and put my clothes on and brush my damned teeth and let the dog out and get the kids up and off to school and do my day just like I always have to. There is no moment in life that transcends all that.

At this point in my life, I am finally waking up to that. I'm seeing why it's the journey that's so important, and why the most important moments in life are so small. It's because the moment is nothing without the rest of life--real life--alongside it. If I work toward a moment to escape life or distract myself from my life, I'm on the wrong track. The moment isn't self-referential. It doesn't celebrate itself in a vacuum. It's sole purpose and reason for existence is to acknowledge a point along the journey.

It's the moment's relationship to peeing and putting on my clothes and brushing my damned teeth and letting the dog out and getting the kids up and off to school and doing my day like I always do that makes it special. That makes it outstanding.

Fitting is the word, therefore, I would use for this, my favorite picture of last week, courtesy of my beloved and her wonderful "to do" board. On Tuesday the 8th, RUNAWAY was finally released on DVD. It seems to be doing quite nicely in terms of sales and rentals, and I am grateful for that. After the long and--god, what do I say? Arduous? Difficult? Overwhelming? I dunno. What I can say it that after 10 years (I wrote the original short story in 1999), it all came down to this.

RUNAWAY released. And we still needed a pooper scooper. And jeans for Indi. And gloves for Jonah to go on his school trip. It happened in the midst of life. The fact that she put it on the board was a loving recognition of something in life that day, not above it or beyond it. Part of it.

I don't know if I am making any sense. This is all kind of stream of consciousness here. My first attempt at trying to put this into words. Having it on the board, and not doing much (although Lori and I did steal away for a quick celebratory toast later that night) other than the stuff I needed to get accomplished that day seemed to honor the RUNAWAY journey more than any ticker tape parade ever could. The quietness of the moment gave deeper meaning to everything that went into arriving at this particular destination.

Not to get all Christmassy on y'all (though it does seem appropriate), but the whole conversation brings to mind this passage in the second chapter of Luke:

"So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. ¹⁷When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, ¹⁸and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. ¹⁹But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart."

That Mary...she had the right idea, I think.

Big journeys. Small moments. Pondering. Life.

Yeah.

Here's to you and all your small moments this season, TRUE LIFERS.

Mr. Livingston, I presume?

2009-11-21T21:01:18-06:00

There's a thing about being a writer. It's kinda important.

In order to be a writer--a real writer--you gotta do one thing. That's, you know, write.

My website and my biography and every damned thing I publish about myself attests to this notion that I am a screenwriter. A professional screenwriter, no less. Truth be told, however, it's been awhile since I have felt like either a "professional" in the movie biz or a "screenwriter." Talk, talk, talk with no walk, is what it's felt like.

The reality is I haven't been a writer lately because I have failed to meet the most basic of litmus tests. Stick the little slip of paper in my beaker brain and it comes out unchanged. Empty.

All that's changing now. I am doing something now that I haven' done in awhile. I am not just talking about working on a new script. I am actually working on a new script. FADE IN is a reality, and FADE OUT is just around the corner.

I am relieved that when I am in conversations nowadays, I don't have to feel like I am telling a white lie when people ask me about what I'm "working on."

Thank god.

Writing. It's good to have you back, stranger. Don't ever stay away that long again. In fact, just don't leave. I need you. For so many reasons, in so many ways, I need you.

Finnigin, Begin-igin

2009-10-14T12:37:25-05:00

Here's the deal. When the going gets tough, Bill gets silent.

I know this about me, but I haven't clued you in. Well, you probably got the idea, anyway.

This causes a host of issues. I stop calling friends and family. I pull into myself and disconnect. People get hurt--and often angry at me. They just wanna know what's up. They worry. They wanna help. But I don't let them.

I don't know why this is my way. Most times I wish it wasn't. But over the course of my life, I have come to accept it as my process and due to my introverted nature. It's not that I don't try to change it (for those of you who know me, think of how much MORE communicative I have become in tumultuous times!), but it's a slow turning at best. I don't know that I will ever be anything other than what I am today.

And, to my great comfort, I am finally okay with that.

So...to all of you that worry, to all of you that mutter, I am great.

You see, my life took a sudden turn this past summer. With the 20/20 vision of hindsight, I see exactly how and why it happened. I can track it back--back and further back, even. But in the moment, it--all of it...meaning the really, really good and the really, really bad--threw me for a loop. Kicked me in the ass, in fact.

My hindsight, though, has also shown me this: that it's all good. I've lived long enough to know that no matter what you think you're gonna do, sometimes the Universe has other plans. Bigger, better plans, in fact, but it means that big and bold things are going to cross your path. You have to make choices, and you have to act.

Over the past few years, folks might get the idea that I am an impetuous person. I do make decisions boldly, and I do make bold decisions. True. But I honestly wouldn't qualify myself as impetuous.

I think things out. When I do that, like all writers, I suppose, I look at the end first. What is the end I am looking for, and what end do I think is most likely as a result of this course of action? I assume--again, probably because of my writerly nature--that there will be a certain amount of drama and conflict in the middle. Assuming the end result is worth it--I make the leap. I trust that everything is going to work out in the end.

The trick is that my process is faster because it takes into account that there will be fallout. I don't require everything to be sewn up nice and neat-like in order for me to act. I don't know whether very many people make decisions that way.

Sometimes I've been right, and sometimes Ive been wrong. To my credit, more right than wrong, I believe.

Over the past several months, as life has handed me a gigantic bowl of lemons, it magically turned to lemonade right before my eyes. I didn't ask for it. The Universe put it there. With hindsight again, of course I can tell you exactly why it's there now and how it got there. That it was always meant to be there, but that's a much longer conversation. And probably requires a lot of beer.

The upshot is that it required me to make a choice and then act. And...I did. On the surface, this choice and action could look like something controversial. To some it could look that way, and I wouldn't blame then for thinking it. Those who know me, however, know controversy has nothing to do with it. And those who take a moment to look just below the surface nod their heads and go, "Ohhh... I get it." And it all makes sense to them.

Okay...all obliqueness aside, if you have been following me at all you know that there have been changes in my life. 800 lb. gorilla changes. Half of these changes I simply don't want to talk about. Not that I don't love y'all, but it's the kind of stuff that is best to simply let be. On the other side of things, I am glad to talk your ear off...and I probably will.

Life has shifted for me...fresh and forward, and yet back to where it really all began in the first place. Funny. Most days I just smile and shake my head. Huh...

I do not live in Minnesota anymore. I left it. Quickly, yes...but for Zach's sake as well as mine I think it was one of the best decisions I've ever made. I have gone west, toward my destiny--personal and professional. And I am done with anything other than keeping my eye on the prize--personal and professional--every day.

More later. Because now I wanna talk. Now I need to talk...to share. There's so much! Yet, there's been this awkward "thing" hanging out there. That gorilla. I am wondering if we can all just nod at it and move past it? That's what I'm doing here--acknowledging and moving on, because I don't want to do the silent treatment thing anymore. Not with you, TRUE LIFERS (ah..! How long has it been since I wrote that?!? Feels good).

Alas, here's to the end of silence. Here's to welcome back. To the past, to the present, and to the future. To True Life.