A brutal tale, but engaging as always, Chris. I see a lot of Joneses these days. Not enough Coffmans. The Joneses insist that there's only one way to succeed in life. Their way. And there's definitely a side of me that feels that allure. But it's stories like yours that inspire me, reminding me that I'm not alone on my own journey to become a human being, as it were.
Thank you Alvin! The classic model is to succumb to compromise, enjoy the benefits of money, status and approval, realize with alarm that your life and deeds are becoming disconnected from your deepest values, and then . . . if we go with the soothing money and status, we have to stay more and more on the surface of our life and ignore the disquieting reminders of our conscience drawing us back to the deeper issues that once were so important to us. Many if not most people double down on the money, which is why it becomes a "game" to make as much money as possible--like any sport it's a distraction from reality.
As a regular reader of your essays I don't think the shallow strategy is going to work for you--you think too deeply about reality and your life. As somebody much older than you, I can reassure you it's possible to turn your back on making as much money as quickly as possible and still have enough in the end to live a pleasant and peaceful life, one that's in tune with, and expresses your values.
…fascinating to hear how much depth and detail you remember and outline your eras Chris…that detailed attention really pays off in the way you share your life…as someone who has never got to experience such clandestine worlds (my shack has always been the scuzz) i appreciate the open door on your reality…
Thank you CansaFis, I really appreciate your comment. I first wrote down an account of these events when I was 35, not long after they happened, when the details were still crystal clear. The title alludes to the Counting Crews song but I didn’t include the relevant lyrics because of copyright concerns—I’m sure you know them.
A brutal tale, but engaging as always, Chris. I see a lot of Joneses these days. Not enough Coffmans. The Joneses insist that there's only one way to succeed in life. Their way. And there's definitely a side of me that feels that allure. But it's stories like yours that inspire me, reminding me that I'm not alone on my own journey to become a human being, as it were.
So, I appreciate this piece, Chris!
Thank you Alvin! The classic model is to succumb to compromise, enjoy the benefits of money, status and approval, realize with alarm that your life and deeds are becoming disconnected from your deepest values, and then . . . if we go with the soothing money and status, we have to stay more and more on the surface of our life and ignore the disquieting reminders of our conscience drawing us back to the deeper issues that once were so important to us. Many if not most people double down on the money, which is why it becomes a "game" to make as much money as possible--like any sport it's a distraction from reality.
As a regular reader of your essays I don't think the shallow strategy is going to work for you--you think too deeply about reality and your life. As somebody much older than you, I can reassure you it's possible to turn your back on making as much money as quickly as possible and still have enough in the end to live a pleasant and peaceful life, one that's in tune with, and expresses your values.
…fascinating to hear how much depth and detail you remember and outline your eras Chris…that detailed attention really pays off in the way you share your life…as someone who has never got to experience such clandestine worlds (my shack has always been the scuzz) i appreciate the open door on your reality…
Thank you CansaFis, I really appreciate your comment. I first wrote down an account of these events when I was 35, not long after they happened, when the details were still crystal clear. The title alludes to the Counting Crews song but I didn’t include the relevant lyrics because of copyright concerns—I’m sure you know them.
…a comedian i work with just got to meet Adam Duritz…by all accounts a radical dude (who hangs upside down in a decompression chair before his shows)…
Very cool! "I wanna be Bob Dylan . . . " Upside down and in a compression chair :)