Our shared coronavirus moment is singular in our lifetime: more than 9/11, it will come to define us and the world in which we persist.
But for me, the timing is even stranger.
At this particular moment in time, I am at a crossroads with my children. The Kids Are Alright - they have all achieved adulthood (even my grandson, any minute now) and they are all embracing their destinies. The more than happens, the further they drift; I have the pride of watching them blossom as I am resigning to the loneliness of their less-frequent contacts.
At this moment in time, I am enjoying the success of a lifetime achievement. In partnership with my dearest intellectual colleague, I have contributed to something new and special in the world - technology that can make a meaningful difference in peoples' lives, and a framework for understanding others within which that technology can flourish.
At this moment in time, I am experiencing unprecedented career success; I have achieved position beyond what I ever thought I could, making a big difference in a company that touches 500,000 families. I have a voice in my industry, and over the past year I acheived three times the publication I've ever managed before. I'm doing some good for my professional community, and informing the public in what I hope is a helpful way.
At this moment in time, the friendships I enjoy are lifetime highs for me. Though I've left a couple of valued social circles behind, with deep regret, I have fantastic people in my life.
At this moment in time, I'm richer than I've ever been.
And yet...
At this moment in time, I feel more vulnerable than I ever have. Lately I've learned, in reconnecting with some special people from my past, that I'm not as evolved as I believed myself to be. I have realized that in many important ways, I've drifted from the herd, and forgotten the love languages of many. I am feeling lost.
At this moment in time, I see fewer days ahead than there are behind. I am more aware than ever of the importance of spending each day wisely, and regret the thousands that weren't.
At this moment in time, I can't help but wonder what's left for me to do. What can I do that will be lasting? What can I do that will matter? How can I make a difference? I used to think I had the answers to those questions down-pat. Now I'm coming up with nothing.
Of course these feelings will pass; they always do.
But at this moment in time, I don't really want to be in the moment.
Comments