Do What You Love. Love What You Do.

I suppose if I were to really, really like that quote, it would have to be “Do What You Love . Love You What Do.” Or, maybe “Do what you love.evol uoy tahw oD” except for making no sense at all. I am, by my own admission and I think my own dubbing, since I’m not sure if it’s really a word, a “symmetrophile.” Wow, it didn’t take long for this to go off track. I was browsing one of the many tubes of the internets. Thanks for that, Sen. Stevens. Well, for that and just doing your thing, since it was nice to see you join… well, where do I start? It’d be a long list were I to try to list all of the hypocritical-Republican-politicians-who-have-crashed-and-burned-thank-you-very-much. Okay, please try to keep from derailing the thought train further.

So, there I was, in one of the tubes, and I came across an article on finding your life’s passion. Well, the working kind. Though I suppose there isn’t too much difference in the quest. This article, which was good, but not really good enough that I want to link to it here, started with a quote from Steve Jobs. It also had a photo, which I substituted for the one at the end, since it’s similar, but mine is more awesome. So, in a pseudo bit of duplication I guess I’ll undertake that same daunting task, though I hope less didactic in nature. And, as much as it may be a copy, the main reason I started writing this was because I thought the article I read was rather thin in some areas, so I prefer to look at this as, uhm, “improvement.” I mean, do you really trust a site that uses a ying-yang as it’s icon? No, I don’t think so. Without further adieu, Mr. Apple himself.

If you are reading at your computer, which I guess is probably the case for pretty much all of you unless some of you are so tethered as to be on an iPhone or something (though that wouldn’t limit you if you were really media saavy), now would be a good time to browse that music collection for a little “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.” I would insert it into this post for maximum ambiance, but really nobody likes that. If you don’t have it handy, just start singing it in your mind. We’re about to go on a fantastical voyage… Cue up a montage of wide open vistas…

I read another very good piece that is along similar lines, but I’m not going to share that with all of you, yet, as I’ve saved it up for some friends for the immediate future. I suppose with the Olympics going on, and being a competitive athlete (person), it is perhaps logical that my mind, which drifts a lot anyway, drifts towards the idea of pursuing a dream. It has been a rather roundabout rode that led me to triathlon, one that seems punctuated by failures. And, insert quote here…

Okay, I suppose I ought to apologize slightly for the rather absurd nature of that quote. I remember liking that one when I was young(er) and foolish(er) [again with the non-words]. Now it seems like it belongs on a Successories poster. Anyway, it’s there, and we’ll keep marching along. The road to where I am seems to be marked, in many ways, by the exits, for lack of a better term, that I took (or was forced to take, though of course I really did have a choice). Lacrosse, where a failed tryout for a walk-on spot led to crew, where a two failures to grasp that national championship led to failures in the effort to make the US team, which would have, if not for said failure, ideally have taken me to the very place I sit watching on TV (that would be the Olympics folks), with my roommate, who is getting ready to compete in those very Games.

And, yet, like Alice down the rabbit hole, I think I have found a wonderland of sorts. Certainly a place that is I love more than the seat in the boat which I loved more than standing between two pipes. And, yet, even now, I find myself searching for the place within this sport. Mr. Q commented that I have the luxury and curse of options. What to do, what to do… And even within each decision about to do, there is another decision lurking. Usually more than one. Every answer seems to bring around another round of questions. I guess that is what people named parents, who inevitably learn an astounding amount as we grow up (thank you, Mr. Clemens/Twain), call “life.” My dad, just returned from a two month legal internship in India. He will be 70 in January. He is, simultaneously, doing what he loves and finding it.

And I think that is, to a certain extent, where I am right now. I am doing what I love, and yet a large part of that is also the journey to find that same thing. A conundrum of sorts, though I suppose that parents would again just call it “life.” Parents… I think my mother, now a grandma – though she semi-secretly wishes to be called “Deedee” instead, just as an FYI, would say something along the lines of, “being a parent, and probably a person, is about exactly that sort of conundrum.” She’s finding happiness (age is a secret for my mom) helping raise yet another kid, some 27 years and 2 months younger than her previous youngest. Sometimes I feel like both of my parents are on more exciting journeys than I am, and I’m supposed to be in my prime, at least according to the wonderfully targeted demographic advertising that encourages me to buy all sorts of things. But there they go. I guess they haven’t yet learned that they are supposed to find that thing and settle down and love it. Retire and wear hats and t-shirts that say things like “The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his fly [insert picture of a size 20 midge here].” When will they learn? I’ll let you know once I sense that they have learned the lesson. Don’t hold your breath…

Life is a journey. Astounding and insightful, I know. Thank you, thank you, I will be here all ze week. As Colin and I pack up the apartment, I guess it just makes you take stock of everything that led to this particular point. And what exactly it is that happens after this. That’s the funny thing about hitching your wagon to a crew focused on the Olympics. You become focused on it as well, though I’d surely admit more than a touch of (purely positive) envy and admiration for the guy I live with and the two guys I train with that are about to make that trip. I’ll leave some of the stories to the people that ought to tell them first, but needless to say, when we all get back, a chapter will have ended for all of us, and a new one will begin. I imagine I’ll still be doing what I love, and still be loving what I do.