It’s Our Journey

by Henry Schulte

It’s Our Journey

We choose what we make of it.

I’m going to share a little something, and I’m going to make an assumption that many of you harbor some of the same feelings. It’s hard for me to comprehend on so many levels that I’m already in my early 70s. And I, like many of you, have asked myself what my life is or was all about?

What is my purpose?

Is there even a purpose?

Is my destiny predetermined?

Do I have a say in any of it?

In my mind’s eye, I see my life flooding past like those calendars you see in a movie where the pages flip rapidly through the months and years. That’s what my life looks like when I think about how I got here so fast. In my head I’m still 18; these days, however, getting out of bed requires some painful effort reminding me that I’m not.

I’d written a song where the chorus goes, “My head says one thing, but my body says another.” I’m sure that sums it up for many of you as well. I also acquired a superpower; I’ve become invisible. Most people under fifty can see right through me. Young(er) women give me a cursory forced smile if they do make eye contact.

I’m just another old guy.

As of late I’ve become troubled, distressed in a way I can’t quite nail down. Though I’m retired, and as it’s been said many times, I find I’m busier than ever. A lot of that is self-inflicted. I have more time for hobbies and other things one couldn’t do when one worked full-time and raised a family. I get to play with stuff that I didn’t have the money to even buy growing up. You would think life would be smooth now, easier.

Not necessarily.

I’ve become more fixated on watching each day come and go in a blink and then feel guilty I didn’t accomplish a thing. That bothers me. Where did January, February, and March go? I have no clue what I did in those twelve weeks.

I’m beginning to freak out as I see another year blowing by. I’m already mentally jumping ahead to summer and fall; my favorite time of year will be here before I can take out the trash and then it’ll be gone again. I’ll tell myself there’s always next year. Only that is not guaranteed.

And that is also not living in the moment.

I preach to others to make the most of every day, but I can’t adhere to my own words.

I used to be a hospice volunteer in Santa Barbara. I loved doing it. When I moved to Santa Ynez Valley, they didn’t have a volunteer program. I found a void in my life. For reasons I can’t explain, I’d gravitate to those who are nearing the end of their lives. I’ve always had older friends and enjoyed their company over my peers. I would visit friends who were dying and just hang out and help where I could. I had such a friend I hadn’t seen for a while and found out he was terminal. I began visiting him at least once a week after I heard the bad news. One day he asked, “Henry what are you doing here?” I looked at him and said, I don’t know. Aside from being a friend, it’s just something inside that compels me to do it.

After a few years of floundering, feeling I wasn’t giving enough of myself to help others, four years ago I found a place; the Friendship House in Solvang. A home for people with various forms of dementia. Helping the residents filled the emptiness I was looking for.

Only lately it still doesn’t seem enough.

The challenge is dealing with the uncomfortable feeling of watching my life racing toward the finish line and feel like I’m blowing it.

Many of you find solace in religion and the church, and that’s important. I find comfort in the Church of the Outdoors. Being outside absorbing nature, if I can make myself do that, or riding my bike on a back road taking in the rolling green hills and blue skies. Only, I do it today and then again tomorrow and before I know it a week is over, then a month and a new year.

I’m sure right about now I’m being diagnosed for all kinds of things. Though I think all it really is, is going back to my earlier observations: what’s it all about? Am I supposed to just go through the motions of life and do what I have to do with the outcome already planned?

What’s the point?

I write a lot about the state of the country, politics. Sometimes that weighs heavy because it’s so depressing. The hate and anger over how people feel about a particular person or political position has become despicable. It’s not normal. A lot of wasted energy when it could be directed toward more beneficial endeavors.

There is nothing we can do about when our day arrives; if we get the chance, we wave goodbye to everything we know and enter a place of either darkness or some other dimension. My wife is great when I opine about all this stuff. She keeps repeating, don’t worry about it, there’s nothing you can do.

I’m not afraid of dying; I’m afraid of not living.

We do have the power to help and make life a bit easier and happier for others and in return, we benefit from it as well.

I’ll keep telling myself to enjoy life, and I do. I want for nothing, but that creates an ache for those who are not as blessed.

Even though it’s a short ride, and you may not be in charge of the destination, you are in charge of the journey.