Sunday, October 20, 2024

Enough Is Worth Striving For

 



Photo by Carl Tronders on Unsplash

My favorite song, “Enough” by Gentri, opens with a haunting phrase:

I wake to face the day already buried under the noise that never fades.¹

That’s how my life feels most days, and most of it’s self-inflicted. I tallied the number of projects I’ve got under development apart from my day job. The number shocked me. I have twenty-eight separate projects going, ranging from one off reports to full-blown enterprise data analysis tools.

I suppose I’ve always thrived on having a lot to do. I enjoy slow activities like reading so it’s really not that I’m trying to avoid being bored. Perhaps I do have a mild fear of silence, except that my mind is never quiet.

In the last year, my capacity to keep my arms around everything that’s going on has diminished to about one-fifth of what it was just a year ago. That is, of course, proportionate to the number of projects I’m working on and that each of those projects clamors for my attention daily.

I often jump from one project to the next which exacerbates that problem. 

A few days ago, I read something written by Eve Arnold² that is profound in its obviousness.

Life isn’t all about moving the needle, sometimes it’s just about living today as lovely as you can.

There’s a tragic irony about people approaching burnout: it’s that many of us believe if we just work harder for a little longer, we’ll get through it and “everything will be okay” on the other side. It’s a logical fallicy that can literally be the death of you.

We had a family trip planned for an entire week. My wife’s been watching the anxiety build around my work, and offered that perhaps I should stay home so I could get some things done.

For a moment, I seriously considered her offer. I hadn’t been any help to her in getting things ready, and I’m pretty sure when that offer came she considered me the source of all life’s problems.

I didn’t take her up on that, and as I’m writing this article, the sun is just beginning to peak over the red cliffs that are so prominent in the area where we are.

A dark picture from the back porch where we’re staying just as the sun creeps over the horizon.
My amazing wife and me on a hike that my youngest declared “the best hike he’s ever been on.”

To be fair, on this “camping trip” we elected not to sleep in tents or trailers but to stay in a lovely home in St. George, Utah. As Jim Gaffigan proffered, “camping is what we did before we had houses.”

Still, the day activities outside enjoying time with family and friends reminds me that there are far more important things in life that deserve my attention than a job. Yes, I need to work to provide for my family, but work often becomes far too important a thing.

D. Todd Christofferson recently wrote, “One can find real satisfaction in a profession, vocation, or service, and all of us are benefited by what devoted and talented people in many fields of endeavor have accomplished and created.” He continued with a caution, “Still, it is possible that devotion to career can become the paramount focus of one’s life. Then all else becomes secondary.”

His statement stung just a little, because there have been times in my life when I have given up far too much time with family for the sake of work. I have allowed myself to be taken advantage of by my employers who are avid proponents of the idea that “pizza is great compensation for free work.”

As I listen to the birds and the muted conversations of people walking by as they enjoy the pristine morning, I’m reminded that enough is worth striving for.

I could go off on a diatribe about how we consistently undervalue what we do, for today, this is enough.


¹I’m a believer that if the whole world would listen to the music of Gentri, we would have world peace. Head to YouTube or your favorite streaming service and listen to “Enough”, “Don’t Let Go,” and “Home” by Gentri, in that order. If you’re not weeping by the end, listen again.

²Eve Arnold has a profound way of reminded me of what should be obvious. I’m approaching my 50th year, but am not too old to think I can’t learn something from a 30-year-old “youngster.”

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