Where Am I?

My relationship with the duration of my life is peculiar to me. I am, now, in what I think of as the “big middle”. The years roughly from 30-65 when I can expect to do most of the main production of my life. Not only the working aspect, but the creative. This is when I write, when I compose. I’m young enough to be ambitious about it and mature enough to resist my urge toward false profundity. I am free to simply create what pleases me.

My professional life is about growth and movement now as well. I am building something, rather than maintaining something I’ve completed. My little demesne is expanding here and I feel confident about my abilities to put something into place here at MECMC that will outlast my stewardship of it. That’s satisfying. Similarly, I am making academic contributions that are at least a little better than worthless. My work is being published in halfway decent journals and cited in fully decent ones. That makes me happy.

My relationship is still young and new but it has rapidly matured into something that feels stable and solid. I don’t fear loneliness. This part of my life I want to freeze: let’s be young and excited forever. I know that that can’t be the way. But I do love that firestorm of affection that colors everything in riot. This feeling of standing in the swirling center of a field of blazing wildflower, a burning meadow that cannot be consumed.

My health is good. My fitness is decent. My finances are in order and my career is in place. Barring an astonishing lapse in my program, I’ll be sober 8 years next month. I have, on paper, an enviable, accomplished, and privileged life. I am basically content though I struggle with anxiety. I find myself looking around at things. What’s next, I wonder? Not from a place of dissatisfaction, but curiosity. Something is next. I wonder when I’ll find out what it is.