I heard a homily today that asked a question that really got me thinking. I suppose that is the point of a good homily: to make one think. The question was, “If a biographer were writing your story, would this season of your life be included?” That hit me pretty hard. I mean, if a guy has over six decades under his belt, you certainly can’t include everything. That book would be thousands of pages long, and no one, other than the subject’s mother, would be that interested in any person. Presuming you have lived six decades, chances are the one person who may want to read such a book has likely already passed on.
Would this season of my life be included? I reflected on this question, and as for me, I can definitely say yes, it would be included. In fact, in my case, I would hope that it would be a sizable chunk of the story. The reason is that, for me at least, these past five years have been among the most transformative of my life. I realize that my life has taken an unusual turn recently, from illness to retirement to the possibility of reinvention as I enter Act III of my life.
However, this made me think of you, dear reader: would this season of your life be included in your own biography? I am pondering this question not in a judgmental way (although it may come across that way, it is certainly not my intention), but more in a spirit of “Are you living on purpose?” I know that sounds judgey, and I am sorry, but there were seasons in my own life when I was just treading water, stringing one day into the next. I got up, went to work, tried to raise children, came home, was a dad, tried to stay healthy, went to bed, rinse and repeat. There are long spans of time that would not be included in my biography. Maybe it would be more like a montage of scenes to suggest the passage of time during which no transformation of the protagonist occurred.
I started writing Brian on Purpose to share what I have been learning about health and wellness. As I have mentioned, it is kind of my thinking, a real-time laboratory of ideas. But the second goal was to help people (anyone who may be interested) to live their lives with intention and purpose. This is a tall order, but I have learned in life to reach for big things rather than the small and safe. If I fail, I will have stretched myself and accomplished something, instead of settling for nothing.
This exercise for me, this blog, is revealing and makes me vulnerable in a way that keeping everything to myself could protect me. But, in some ways, I feel like I have a mission, a calling, and maybe there is just one person who will benefit from what I have learned, who may make a change in their own story. As I write this, it seems silly, but it is true.
As examples of lifestyle things I have shared that are transformative and counterculture: sleep is way underrated; walking is such a healthy activity; helping others changes us; living on purpose is far better than sleepwalking through the one shot at life we have (sorry reincarnationists).
The homilist continued with what he considered the four elements of a good story, using The Lord of the Rings as an example. In order for there to be any story, the protagonist (that’s you and me) needs to make a decision to take action. There is no story if the character does nothing, stringing one day together with the next. In that action, there are four elements: Irreversibility, identity, risk, and agency.
Irreversibility means that you can’t go back. Once Frodo decides to dispose of the ring in Mordor, he can’t return. Identity means that the protagonist’s very identity is at stake. They take action knowing they will be forever changed by it. They will become a new version of themselves. Risk means that the future is unclear. It is unknown whether they will succeed in their endeavor. Finally, agency means the person chooses to take action; no one is forcing them.
Fortunately, for us, we aren’t hobbits, and the future of the world is not dependent upon our actions. However, we are in the midst of writing our own story, and the season we are living in can be the primary part of it.
I reflected further on those four elements and saw parallels with my upcoming pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago. I won’t be carrying a ring, but I will be on a journey for which I know I will not be the same person I was when I left. I am not trying to be dramatic, but I know this is true. If I am unchanged, it will be all for nought.
I aspire to make this season of my life so critical that a biographer would focus on what I am doing and how I am choosing to live. If my future biographer is reading this, please take note. Just kidding, that is only a metaphor. My mom has passed on, and I assure you, she was the only person interested in reading my story, and I am fine with that. I love being a nobody from nowhere who gets to live in relative peace and tranquility. This is true joy.
I hope you reflect on your own story. I hope you choose to make this season of your life as fulfilling as possible as you continue to write your story.