Content Is Content. Be Content.
Chill is a Skill
I’ve spent much of my life surrounded by high-functioning people, the type who treat every second like currency, who squeeze productivity in everything they do, ones who push harder when others would slow down.
They find success in high-pressure jobs, shine in chaotic environments, and thrive in stressful situations. I admire them, maybe because I used to be like them. I loved the intense moments, almost confrontational. I savored my stressful job. I was young, hungry, and overly enthusiastic. Always ready for the next challenge, relentless.
In my own way, I was ambitious, intense, and driven.
But I also have friends on the other end of the spectrum, people who move through life without urgency, without chasing more than they need. They’re content with exactly what they have. Somewhere between these two worlds is me, still figuring out which side I am going to survive in.
I still am the same person, I’m just older now, and I admit my dreams and aspirations have somewhat shifted.
Last week, I caught up with a good friend, no, a great friend. My girlfriend’s brother.
A real career-driven individual. Somewhere in our conversation, he asks,
“What’s your goal?” Probably prodding, maybe he was making sure his little sister was dating the right guy.
I always knew I had goals. Maybe he was just asking out of sheer curiosity, but it’s been so long since someone asked me, with genuine intent.
“It changes every day,” I said, half-heartedly. A foolish answer.
But before he could respond, I added, “To be a published author.”
Words I was not even sure about.
I’ve written so many articles and essays over the past few years. I didn't even think of anything else other than producing work. Maybe that’s the secret, to be so emotionally, physically, and intellectually invested in your craft that you get lost in the sauce, as they say.
If anything, I’m already a published writer. I’ve written for multiple publications, had my work circulated, and at the same time run my platform.
The only thing missing is a book really. If I compiled all of my work from the past 3 years, both published and unpublished, I could likely turn it into a book. Will I have achieved my goal then?
Should I reject this fantasy? Or maybe, move on to better things?
I don't know.
As we spoke, and shared more common and uncommon interests, differing opinions about other things, somehow, we came here.
“I want to build a gym or a martial arts facility in my hometown,” words I thought I’d forgotten, ever since I fell into the rat race of the Western world.
Sounds overbearing, sounds corny, sounds like a dream, but completely doable. I could probably build one right now, but I'm not sure if I’m capable of owning it, let alone managing.
Only time will tell.
Then there’s Jim, Adrian’s coworker. Younger, but already ahead in many ways. He is as hungry and driven as his superior in Adrian, but admittedly, what he lacks in experience, he compensates for with an intense thirst for skills and knowledge.
Years ago, he asked, “Should I do it?”
“Do what?” I asked.
“Go with you on a trip,” Jim replies.
“Make mistakes,” I joked, “learn from them,” I advised.
I think those words were as much for me as they were for him.
When I gave him an answer it felt like I was trying to convince myself, stepping into the unfamiliar role of someone I never really had. A big brother.
We ended up going and had a blast. It was unforgettable.
I always liked to think that I was there for him exactly when he needed me, and that I was also put there to learn from him. I am glad it happened.
And then there’s Norman. An artistic, goofball. Despite not fully using and exploring his skills, he probably lives the best life out of all my acquaintances. He fell in love, married a wonderful woman, and ran away with it. Norman really didn't have any outrageous aspirations in life, unlike me and some of my friends. He goes through the motions daily and enjoys life. He does not seek or want anything more.
He is. Content.
Maybe that’s what we should all seek: Contentment.
Maybe we should all aspire to become like Norman, live a quiet life, perform an honest job, appreciate everything that it brings, and enjoy everything that doesn’t come with ambition. Stress, pressure and worry.
If you’d ask me, what’s my dream? I can give you a definite answer. To be fulfilled. To put all my talents and capabilities into absolute use. That, I think, is what will make me happy.
My goals? These are different. I assume that goals are something I am capable of achieving. To become a successful writer, to help people think. I don't plan to become filthy rich, to become overly popular, that’s someone else’s dream.
All I want is to give back to everybody that had been instrumental in what I’ve eventually become. A lot of people helped me; I never did achieve a lot of things alone. People were there for me, even though I rarely make myself available for them. I am a product of multiple ideas, of hundreds of books, and thousands of conversations. I am ever changing, and I'll keep on changing, evolving. I can never just equate myself to one thing. I aim to be a great friend, to be a wonderful husband, a father, a good son, a writer, and most of all, a happy, content person. I may never find most of the answers, but I am sure that a lot of people will help me along the way.