At most, thus far, I’ve made stabs at seriousness. Stabs at taking myself, as a living (and thus also dying) being, seriously. Stabs at living life in a way that wrings the abstraction clean out of it. Stabs at sustaining an existential intensity.
How do you overcome the fear of great change? By pitting it against an even stronger fear of too-late change. Becoming fearless is not a realistic goal, but domesticating fear is a little more manageable. Make fear work for you. If you fear correctly, it can spook you out of comfort zones that otherwise disguise their danger. Often what is described as “no risk” is better stated as “no present risk.” In many such cases, however, the future (your future!) is left defenseless and open to attack.
Strangely enough, one telltale sign of not taking life seriously enough, meaning life at its absolute, existential essence, is the taking of the small day-to-day aspects of life much too seriously, obsessing over the parts while dismissing reflections on the whole. The tragedy of being overcharged at the supermarket, of facing a longer wait than expected, isn’t worthy of the shabbiest local theater.
"Serious" is an imperfect word for what I’m trying to describe - an existential sensitivity that develops in tandem with a sense of humor. Respecting our life with the sincerity it deserves also means learning that much of what imposes itself on our life (attempting to trick us into merging it into the general definition of life) should not to be taken seriously at all!
Do the work, and by that I mean your life’s work! Take seriously the whole, laugh at the absurdity of the parts. Let us reclaim the word “fate”... to have such faith in our fate, not that we feel that we can arrive at it by doing nothing ourselves (like the electronic walkways in airports), but that we are so sure we are marked for great things that we are willing to take risks and chances to get there. Belief in self without a corresponding belief in fate is exceedingly difficult to manage.
Oh, midday sun that is too often the midnight of my creativity! American, too deeply bred for the workday, what are these ruminations and reflections to that bottom-line understanding of productivity? Sitting here, sun shining in, more bark than bite during mid-March in New England. Readying myself to step outside, with one foot out of my routine, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, what's this? Have I been enveloped by a new path?
"Take seriously the whole, laugh at the absurdity of the parts." Amazing