I don’t always post on Groundhog Day, but when I do, it’s a post about what I’d do with eternity.
This. This is what I’d do.
I’d get up at 5:30 and play basketball (yes, at 47, after breaking my leg in two places on the very same court where I just boxed you out for an offensive rebound). I’d come home and read scriptures and pray with my family. I’d teach at as many schools as I could (today it was two of them). I’d visit potential donors for Libertas. I’d work out mortgage financing for that family up the street. I’d write sequels to unpublished novels. Then I’d go to pack meeting, or choir, or basketball again. I’d spend time in the scriptures, and praying. I’d go to bed sometime after 11. And then I’d get up and do it all over again the next day.
That’s every day. It’s mad, baby. And I love it.
A few years back I was watching Groundhog Day–we do it every year–and lamenting that I didn’t have the opportunity that Bill Murray did, to live for eternity and do whatever I wanted to do.
And then I realized that I was completely wrong, that I was looking at this eternity thing totally incorrectly. I DO have that same opportunity, and I was spending a lot of it learning to throw cards into a hat, metaphorically speaking. I was doing what I thought I had to do to keep doing what I thought I had to do. That is not much of an oversimplification of the situation.
So I stopped. And I started doing what I wanted to do, and what I was good at, and trying to get better at it. Maybe I’ve succeeded at that–I think I’m a better teacher and writer than I have been–and maybe not, but I’m a better person, and that will do. When I go on, it’s only those things I have become that will go with me. All the other stuff I’ve done will die. Even my books, which kills me, but that’s the way it is.
I’ve made enough of a living to keep living a life. I make no judgments for those that don’t do this, because I am also one of those people. Part of who I am now is the person that couldn’t believe he could live like this. Being who I was helped me be who I am, and neither do I condemn me. But I shall go my way and sin no more.
All right, I probably will sin more. I won’t get this day perfect. But I’ll get to take all the good stuff into the next one, and I’m going to keep going from there.
January’s writing was 54,272 words, the second-best month of my life by word count. Since I started writing for true and serious back in November of 2014, I’ve written over 900,000 words. Around the Ides of March, I’ll crack a million.
Tonight, very likely, I’ll finish my eighth novel, seven of which were written in the last thirty months, five of them in the last sixteen months. I have covers for twelve short stories, covers like this one:
of which I’m rather proud, and these will be going up on Kindle three a week all month.
Thanks for noticing. You all make my life very much better.