I am presently torn between my burning desire to change the world and the truth that I'm equally as fulfilled using my Black and Decker leaf blower, listening to Skynard on the iPod, and watching my boys ride their bikes. It would seem I need to be choosing between these two things here at some point, but I can't.
For example, I took my umpteenth plane ride this weekend to meet with local and national leaders about a massive gathering involving thousands of people and more sound gear than the original Woodstock. In the final minutes of the trip, one of my traveling companions asked me what I wanted to do next.
I had to think about it.
Finally, I said "I'm not sure. I've certainly got ideas cooking, but in reality, I love being the dad of four kids. I have a great wife. If this is all I get...I still end up having done pretty well."
I meant it with all my heart. Even this afternoon, I was way more excited about hanging with my kids than I was any sort of professional accomplishment I might be finding...
So why do I feel slighted if I get passed over for an exciting assignment? Why do I feel compelled to put my best foot forward in situations that I know will mean getting recognized? If this suburban, leaf blowing, diaper changing reality is all that fulfilling, why do I feel pressured to manifest greatness in some other realm?
This is the point where a good writer would resolve the tension, concluding the blog entry with some textual panacea that leaves the reader feeling good and the writer looking smart.
I have no such summary...just the cognitive dissonance that involves contentment, desire, and the unusual position of fully owning both.