Two years ago, there were eight people on my dad’s side of the family in his generation. With my uncle passing away unexpectedly last week, now there are four.
My wife Lisa and I are currently in Michigan helping my 84-year-old father recover from knee replacement surgery and visiting her 84-year-old mother in her retirement home apartment. Seeing the inevitable declines that comes with advanced age is a sobering reminder of what awaits me.
That said, these reflections are not making me maudlin, gloomy or depressed. And I’m not about to try to “live every day as if it’s my last,” because frankly, that’s not practical.
What I am trying to do is embrace my mortality. Face it. Make peace with it. My worldview that we are all born of God’s love, live in God’s love, and will return to God’s love helps me do that.
Another useful tool has been making a plan for my eventual demise. Being prepared financially. Having a Trust. A will. An advanced medical directive.
I’m letting the reality of my mortality influence my choices. Impact how I live. I’m choosing to pursue and live my dreams now vs. waiting. Writing the books I want to write. Seeing the world. Spending time with people I love.
What are your thoughts about death? Do you avoid the subject? Are you afraid of it? Those are understandable responses. But your life will end. Try embracing your mortality. Make a plan. Consider a higher power. Live your dreams now. If you can’t, take steps to bring them closer. If you do, you’ll have a more fulfilling life, and you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.
Once I had the goal of being a traditionally published author in my sights, I attacked it. Studied the craft. Wrote my first book. Got signed by a literary agent. Fought through a myriad of rejections. Wrote my second book and endured even more denials. Wrote my third book, yet still struck out.
Then my break through. The fourth book I wrote earned me a four-book deal with Penguin Random House, the biggest trade publisher in the US. But I quickly learned that wasn’t the finish line—if I wanted a successful career, it was just a new starting line.
So I dug in again. Made connections with literary gatekeepers like librarians, teachers, booksellers, and parents. Promoted myself and my debut series. Appeared on podcasts. Gave interviews. Taught classes. Worked social media. Booked my own school visits and bookstore appearances. Said yes to any promotional opportunity, all for free.
For awhile, it worked. My efforts led to a deal for a fifth book. Three national book tours. Book signing events attended by hundreds of people. Being on stage with literary icons at book festivals. Becoming a USA Today bestselling author.
Then my publisher didn’t extend my Monsterious series. While that stung, I got to work on creating a new series pitch. They rejected it. I went back to the drawing board. They turned down the next idea too. I came off my most recent tour last October exhausted, dejected, and questioning my future as an author.
I finally gave myself a much needed break. I took several months off, writing little and doing virtually no promotion. The rest and reflection cleared my work-fogged mind and helped me find a healthier perspective—I did the things. I lived my literary dreams. Do I want them to continue? Of course.
But not at any price.
I realized the mysterious agony in my abdomen months earlier that had stumped doctors and landed me in the hospital was probably stress induced. I remembered that I don’t have to do everything or say yes to every opportunity. In the publishing industry, there’s an external and internal pressure to give everything to your literary success. To keep pushing, keep striving. It feels like if you’re ever without your next book deal, you’re failing. Getting left behind. Becoming a has-been.
But that’s not reality. There is another path. A version of my life where I stop letting someone else define success. Where I choose what winning looks like for me.
There are things I love beside writing that bring me deep fulfillment, like my nomadic life, traveling the world with my wife Lisa, and spending extended time with friends and family. Do I still enjoy writing? Definitely. Will I continue to pursue it as a career? Without a doubt. My agent is shopping my new children’s fantasy adventure manuscript to editors now, and I’m currently writing an adult thriller novel (and having a blast).
Will those books get deals? I have no idea. If they do, I’ll be ecstatic, but if they don’t, that’s okay too. I’m not going back to that stress-filled frenzy where I’m striving to meet other people’s expectations. There’s great power and comfort in deciding what winning looks like for me.
What dreams are you chasing? What goals are you pursuing? Whatever they are, make sure they’re your true passions. Don’t let other people define your success. Reclaim your power. Choose your own win. If you do, you’ll have a more peaceful journey toward your preferred life, and you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.
In my practice of silence, rather than the calm stillness I seek, thoughts often leap about randomly in my head like monkeys in a tree. It’s frustrating.
But I’ve learned that if I stick with it, my ping-ponging thoughts begin to settle, like still water on a pond after the ripples subside. I’m usually able to find the peace, clarity, insight, and connectedness to my truest self that I’m looking for.
Author and teacher Henri Nouwen described this struggle-and-benefit duality of silence. While the closing section on connection with God may not fit your worldview, I believe there is still much to be gained from his insight and from the practice of silence:
At first silence might only frighten us. In silence we start hearing voices of darkness: our jealousy and anger, our resentment and desire for revenge, our lust and greed, and our pain over losses, abuses, and rejections. These voices are often noisy and boisterous. They may even deafen us. Our most spontaneous reaction is to run away from them and return to our entertainment.
But if we have the discipline to stay put and not let these dark voices intimidate us, they will gradually lose their strength and recede into the background, creating space for the softer, gentler voices of the light.
These voices speak of peace, kindness, gentleness, goodness, joy, hope, forgiveness, and most of all, love. They might at first seem small and insignificant, and we may have a hard time trusting them. However, they are very persistent and they will be stronger if we keep listening. They come from a very deep place and from very far. They have been speaking to us since before we were born, and they reveal to us that there is no darkness in the One who sent us into the world, only light. They are part of God’s voice calling us from all eternity: “My beloved child, my favorite one, my joy.”
henri nouwen, “you are the beloved”
Have you experimented with silence? Perhaps you’ve struggled as I have. Try again. Start with one minute. Gradually lengthen your time. Go slowly. Try techniques like a focus image (candle, mountain meadow, fireplace, etc), concentrating on your breathing, or repeating a helpful word or phrase aloud or silently (peace, quiet, God, love, I am seeking myself, etc.). Stick with it until your wandering thoughts begin to still. If you do, you’ll experience greater peace and clarity, and you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.
