Progress Update

Recently, I found myself at a crossroads, faced with an important decision. I'd avoided it as long as the Universe would allow, or so it seemed. Have you had the same experience? Have you ever had to make up your mind?

As I say, I could put it off no longer, and a choice was required. The thing would have lasting effects on the rest of my life.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about that Robert Johnson or Bob Dylan kind of crossroad. I don't plan to make a pact with Satan or Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, Iblis, The Tempter, The Adversary, Ash-Shaytan, or Old Scratch. 

I understand why you might be questioning the Genome sanity, if any, especially if you read that piece I posted recently about my Evil Plan for World Domination. That little missive could confuse anyone, really. Let me take a moment to explain the Evil Plan, and then we'll get back to the decision that could shake the earth's foundations. 

First of all, the Plan isn't really evil. At least I don't think so. You may think differently, of course, and if you do think differently, please leave your thoughts in the comments below.

 My plan is intended to become my personal path for escaping fear, depression, and anxiety for good. I did it once. At least I thought it was for good, but here I am again up to my neck in the soup.

Oh yes, for several years I was sitting on top of the world with a rainbow around my shoulders, being serenaded by bluebirds. But that was then. I'm not there now. The bluebird has left the stage, the rainbow has evaporated, I slid down the lines of longitude, and I've been wandering along a muddy logging road for the last few years. 

You probably know all about that, if you've been here with me,  and I want you to know that I'm eternally grateful for your support. 

My personal adversary is a trinity made up of Pandemic, Politics, and Princess Amy. I can't do anything about any of those, can I? I'm powerless to stop them just as I was powerless over alcohol and drugs. But there is a solution. I know there is because many other people, people like me, have found it, and I will find mine too.

The idea of an Evil Plan didn't originate with me. The credit and the attribution go to Hugh McCloud, the author of a book titled Evil Plans: Having Fun on the Road to World Domination. It's an excellent book and I recommend it highly to anyone who feels stuck in a rut and would like some help getting underway again. You can learn more by visiting his website at GapingVoid.com, but please don't go there now. Read the rest of this post first.

So the decision that I'm facing is the one that will either get me back on top or leave me in a heap on the floor until the End of Days.

As I say, I've felt lost and out of place for the last few years, and I'd like to change that. I realize that action is demanded--proper steps through the proper channels is the way P.G. Wodehouse phrased it--and for the record, I've taken steps, plenty of them, really I have. The problem is that I always remain in the same place; no progress and no changes.

In my baseline recovery program, I'm told that repeating the same actions while expecting a different result is a type of insanity. Makes sense to me. Reminds me of the results of a study that found that most people, when faced with setbacks, do more of the same thing, hoping for a breakthrough, or else they accept defeat and settle for what they already have.

I don't accept defeat (I usually phrase this as I don't eat pine needles, but that's a subject for another post.)

Did you notice that I skittered off the road and am back in the ditch again? Me too. Let me get to the point and wrap this up. And thanks again for being with me. Your attention makes all the difference.

The punchline is that I'm making a new plan, and to get it started, I'm following that old admonition that the Round Table Knights were given when they began their quest for the holy grail, If you find a path in the enchanted forest, ignore it! You must make your own path.

When I put all this mish-mash through the colander, what comes out is that I must take action, and I must take action that I've never taken previously. I'm not sure what the right action will be, and so I plan to follow the advice of my old school pal, McGoo. Do something even if it's wrong. Maybe that's where the evil part comes in.

Stick with me. I'm having a little trouble getting started, but I promise to stop repeating myself and start getting results. You'll read it first right here.

About The Circular Journey

"We are here to find meaning. We are here to help other people do the same. Everything else is secondary."

~~ Hugh MacLeod's "The Hughtrain Manifesto."

That quote is taken from Mr. MacLeod's book, "Evil Plans," which I've discussed in a couple of previous postings. Full disclosure: the plans he talks about are not 'evil.' In that book, MacLeod discusses ethical marketing and the ideal relationship between marketers and consumers. 

Personally, I found his manifesto to be a guide for living harmoniously with others. My aim in paraphrasing his work is not to alter the original meaning, but to remove the marketing context and focus solely on the human-to-human connection. 

Overlooking the marketing-customer language, the takeaway for me is as follows:

We humans want to believe in our own species. Belief in humanity and human potential ... excites us, and we want people in our lives who make it easier for us to believe in one another.

If you aren’t on board with this idea, MacLeod says, "better hire a consultant in Extinction Management" because from now on, your life pivots squarely on your vision of human potential.

At the time of writing this post, I've been blogging at The Circular Journey for nearly two decades. Over the years, the blog has served different purposes. Initially, it served as a journal to help me cope with yet another relocation and change of employment. Later, it became a tool to help cope with my mood disorder. The blog continues to help me fine-tune my mental health, but now that I'm no longer consumed by emotional storms, I enjoy documenting my new life on the coast, a life that has turned out better than I expected.

Everyone lives in their own unique world. Whether it’s the high-tech environment of NASA, the academic rigor of Duke University, the artistic coffee shops of bohemian Wilmington, or the rural life in Shady Grove, we each shape and adapt these worlds to fit our needs—sometimes even adjusting our lives to match the worlds we imagine.

The first few years of this decade were especially challenging for me. My mother passed away at the end of 2018, and then COVID-19 arrived with the start of 2020. 

After months of caring for my mom and then her sudden demise, I drifted aimlessly, without purpose, useless, and unnecessary. During the pandemic, we often heard the term ‘essential personnel’ used for people with necessary skills and responsibilities. I felt anything but essential.

When we moved from Durham to the coast in December 2020, the combined impact of feeling non-essential and having to adjust to unfamiliar surroundings led me into depression. The added stress of the political turmoil intensified my anxiety. It was not a pleasant combination.

In my recovery program of choice, we learn that emotional pain can be a powerful motivator. Eventually, I reached my limit and made a commitment to pull myself out of the depths of bipolar disorder once again.

During my darkest days, I experienced a sudden, life-changing realization. One afternoon in my therapist’s office, Dr. Coast asked what it was about blogging that obsessed me so. Out of the blue came the words, ‘We all tell ourselves stories about our lives and cast ourselves in the role of hero. Whether we see ourselves as winners or losers, we always give ourselves the starring role.’

Unlike most people, I don’t narrate my life as it happens. Instead, I make mental notes and later transform those moments into blog posts. This approach lets me craft a more thoughtful and detailed story than I could with a spontaneous, real-time account. I write my own life—and I always give it a happy ending.

It works for me in ways I never thought possible. I recommend it highly, and it doesn't require writing. We all tell ourselves stories intended to explain and make sense of our lives. I believe the key to creating a meaningful, purposeful life is to consciously and intentionally craft stories that allow you to do what you love, and to do work that actually matters. All it takes is the willingness to experiment and persistent mindful practice. 

I believe it's one of the best things we can do with the limited time we have on earth. Along the way, you’ll meet incredible, like-minded people, doing what they love, becoming who they were meant to be, and helping others do the same.

Happy Daze

I woke from the dream in that particular state of confusion that follows a deep Sunday afternoon nap, when you're not entirely sure what year it is, let alone what day. 

Untangling myself from the sheets, I stumbled to the window and looked out, checking to see if the world still made sense. The familiar sight of Wynd Horse in the driveway, along with the neighbor’s endlessly barking terrier, was reassuring. What a dream!

Thoughts of the dream continued to play out in my mind as I made the first coffee of the day. She had appeared at my driver's side window like a roller-skating carhop girl at a 1960s drive-up burger house. It was Princess Amy, of course.

"What the hell?" I thought. I knew I shouldn't have eaten those nachos.

"Have we somehow quantum jumped into Happy Days?" I asked. Remember, it was a dream, after all, and stranger things have happened, especially when fresh jalapenos are involved.

"I'm not happy about it myself," she said. "You think I enjoy roller skating in cut-off blue jeans? I'm going to be a reality TV queen; I must maintain some dignity."

"But I didn't make the choice to be here, you did," I shot back, and I meant it to sting. 

"What choice?" she demanded, "You made the decision to eat fast food--something you haven't done since 1979. What were you thinking?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I insisted. "Do you really think I was making decisions in 1979? I never made a single decision before January 12, 1991."

"Well, someone did, or we wouldn't have gotten to 1991 in the first place."

"So what is this then? Why am I parked in front of a Burger Barn, and why are you dressed like a carhop? Is this supposed to be The End you're always harping about?" I said. "Is it finally happening?"

"You're the one who keeps talking about the end," she said. "And what do you mean when you say, 'it's happening'? What's happening?"

"Judgement Day and all that," I said. 

I don't know why this conversation was taking place, even though it was a dream. As far as I could tell, it had no bearing on anything in my waking life. But then nothing seems to make sense in my dreams anymore.

"Don't be silly, Sherlock," Amy replied. "We seem to be in the 1960s, and we know that life on Earth continues until 2025. This isn't the end of anything."

"It's 2025 in another universe," I said. "We seem to have branched into a different and stranger universe. Apparently, we've become entangled in some wave function collapse, and now, here we are, trapped in a world where Ms. Wonder hasn't yet been born."

I felt a sudden onset of despair. "She's the stuff that makes life outside the Garden of Eden a paradise. Without her, anything might happen at any moment."

“There’s nothing we can do but wait it out,” Amy said, a note of desperation creeping into her voice. “If we can hang on, Wonder will eventually be born, grow up, and make everything right again.”

Then she gave me a look I’d never seen before—one of pure defeat and resignation. Even though it was just a dream, that look still haunts me as I write this.

“Yes, that’s true,” I replied. “But that’s years away, and anything could happen before she gains her full power.”

“You have a point,” Amy said, pausing dramatically. At last, she broke the silence.

“So, what can I get for you?”

“Sorry,” I replied, realizing I’d drifted off and missed something. “What did you say?”

Amy pulled an order pad from her back pocket and a number 2 pencil from behind her ear. “What would you like to eat?” she repeated.

“Are you kidding? You really think I can eat at a time like this?”

“Of course,” she replied confidently. Taking a deep breath, she managed a small smile at the corner of her mouth. “Remember the first rule of Fierce Qigong: No striving; let life unfold on its own terms.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for the reminder,” I said, beginning to feel a little better myself. “I’ll have the cheeseburger, some fries, and a Pepsi.”

"Pepsi, Pepsi, Pepsi," she said with a grin.

When I woke, I realized that my dreams aren’t getting stranger—they’re just becoming more honest. Even in a quantum-shifted universe where Ms. Wonder hasn’t been born yet and Princess Amy is serving burgers on roller skates, one fundamental truth remains: when faced with the collapse of reality as we know it, humans still order the cheeseburger and fries.

Some things, apparently, transcend even wave function collapse. And yes, I have an obligation to my public to be completely forthcoming about that too."

A New Morning

The morning sun streamed through my bedroom window with the enthusiasm of a weather forecaster promising parade-perfect skies, and I woke up feeling inexplicably fine—no special reason, just one of those mysterious mornings when the spirit decides to cooperate. 

Outside my window, the Carolina coast was putting on its daily spectacular: sunshine warming a brilliant blue sky, a cooling breeze wafting in from the Atlantic carrying that faint scent of possibility and sunscreen. 

The predawn quiet had given way to nature's gentle morning stretch—birds chirping without a care in the world, blissfully focused on their next snack, while I lay there with a persistent thought from last evening that had patiently waited for me like a faithful dog.

My plan is refreshingly simple—develop genuine self-awareness through continued meditation practice, learn to assess my attitudes and habits with the kind of brutal honesty that makes most people squirm, and then take small, deliberate steps toward becoming the person I keep glimpsing in those rare moments of clarity. 

I intend to focus on proven, science-backed techniques while remaining skeptical of the contradictory nonsense that clutters the internet, seeking guidance from truly impartial sources rather than well-meaning friends who might sugarcoat the truth. 

What I hope to gain isn't perfection—that's a fool's errand—but rather the quiet satisfaction of progress, however small, and the wisdom to accept my limitations while still pushing gently against them.

What brought all this on, you wonder? It's this newfound clarity of mind and sense of hope that arrived unannounced, like an unexpected gift that, as far as I know, I've done absolutely nothing to deserve. These moments of grace can leave as quickly and mysteriously as they arrive, so I want to savor this one while it lasts and see where it leads. 

I debated including this next bit, wondering whether it adds or detracts from the message in this post, but to be sure, I'll mention that Princess Amy doesn't think highly of my search for self-improvement. By now, you’re familiar with Amy, the little imaginary tyrant who insists that she’s in charge of my life, and scoffs at what she calls my “delusional” aspirations. 

 I mention it here only to point out that challenges should be expected when we're trying to better ourselves. It's only natural. Consistency and perseverance are the antidote to obstacles. Amy's comments might warrant another blog post about attempting to reason with my limbic system.

The Art of Self-Improvement may sound grandiose to Amy, but it's really nothing more than paying attention: to the quality of morning light, to persistent thoughts, and to the quiet, sudden moments when an inner voice softly insists, “This is it.”

I hope you'll enjoy this journey with me. Better yet, leave a comment and tell me about your own morning revelations. Say you will.

The Contemplative Sparrow

I stepped onto the lanai to greet the morning and saw, to my delight, a sparrow perched atop the bird feeder. The serenity I felt in that moment brought to mind something a Buddhist friend once said about meditation: "We're just sitting on the floor, staring blankly into space, doing nothing." 

That sparrow remained motionless for the longest time. As you know, birds at feeders usually start by perching near protective cover and observing what's happening. Once they've determined it's safe, they'll fly over and take their place at the seed trough. Occasionally, a bolder bird may chase others away, while a timid one might take flight if startled.

What you don't often see is a little bird sitting around on top of the feeder, staring blankly into space, doing nothing.

She seemed to be quietly enjoying the moment: the peaceful view, the quiet, and likely the comfort of being so near a source of food with no competition. Eventually, she dropped down to the table and began eating again.

My thoughts turned to other birds--specifically, where were they, I wondered. Scanning the back yard, I saw only one other bird. A Cardinal perched on the fence railing. He seemed just as intrigued by the sparrow's behavior as I was.

A sudden movement farther down the fence caught my attention—it was a blue-tailed skink gripping the side of a fence plank. I wondered if he, too, was watching the sparrow. But soon I realized he wasn't alone; another skink was clinging to the opposite side of the same plank.

Was a territorial showdown about to erupt? That seemed unlikely since a third skink was perched on the adjacent plank at the same latitude. Rather than a rumble, it looked more like a 'meeting after the meeting' of Skinks Anonymous.

Now, some of you are probably thinking, Genome, you're witnessing natural behavior and imagining it's something more. It's only a bird hanging out at the feeder. What could be more natural? And the skinks? They're basking in the sunshine. It's what reptiles do!

You’re right, of course. I tend to view reality through the lens of my imagination. I’ve always believed that even true stories are more interesting and more memorable when elves and faeries are sprinkled in. I think we can all agree that a touch of fantasy can always improve the truth.

My Buddhist buddy knew it all along; the most profound moments come from 'just sitting around, staring blankly into space, doing nothing.' Doesn't matter if it's a sparrow on a feeder, a skink warming on the fence, or a person quietly watching it unfold through the window. The magic isn't in what we do; it's in what we see. And if what we see happens to include a few elves and faeries, it makes the meditation more enchanting.