Searching for Joy
I’ve changed my reading habits lately. In fact, I’ve re-evaluated a few different areas in my life lately, and some changes are definitely needed (someday I’ll write more about those other changes).
More and more I find that — just like when I was younger — sports is just about the only news I can read any more. Hence, what I now choose to write about most of the time. Of course, I’m sure that long term, I won’t stick with so much sports all the time — for one thing, the period between the Super Bowl and Opening Day of the baseball season is dead to me. NBA in March? No thanks. And hockey? What’s that?
But I do love my pro and college football. And baseball when played the right way, plus the entire playoffs and World Series. And college basketball, especially the NCAAs in March. All the majors in golf and tennis, except the Australian Open, because, frankly, who cares? And I love tournaments of any kind: high school, college, just about any sport, I’ll watch at least a little bit.
One of the things I love about sports, I guess, is the connection with youth. Because, despite all the negativity that seems to pop up around sports these days, when you get right down to brass tacks, an exciting play is still an exciting play. A well-executed hit-and-run, a nice trap play, a long touchdown throw. These are moments when life stands still, and it’s all good. No worries about terrorism, no political squabbles. No noise, except the good kind, from the crowd.
And as I get older … and older … I’ve found that I need more such sources of temporary joy in my life. Or rather, fewer impediments to my traditional sources of temporary joy. Self-imposed impediments, to be frank.
I used to have no problems escaping, and finding temporary joy. Music. Reading. Comedy TV shows and movies. Running. Ballgames. A few cold ones. Goofing with the kids.
These days, in my late 40s, I’m finding it a little tougher. I’ve gotten away from some of the things that bring me joy, and worse, replaced them with things that bring me anger.
How very clever of me!
And gradually, I’ve come to realize: reading daily about politics is really not the smartest plan for somebody like me. Ditto with terrorism. I’m guessing that each and every month over the last 5 years, I’ve read more on these topics every month than I had in my entire life. And for what?
It’s not like my focus on such things since 9/11 has helped me, or helped my family, or my community, or my country.
Yes, I suppose I was destined to follow this path, just because of who I am: I need to understand things at some sort of basic level. And I suppose it is, overall, a good thing to be more plugged-in to what is really going on in the world than I would be today, had I not taken that path for a while.
But I’ve reached a point where I can’t really live in that world any more. Politics is too cynical and soul-destroying to read about on any kind of regular basis. Terrorism is, well, terrorizing, and I’m missing out on real life every moment I’m thinking about that. I’m not going to turn into one of these cranky old men who whines about politicians all the time, and worse, pretends that getting annoyed about all that actually leads to something useful in my own life. Because, guess what? It doesn’t. It just doesn’t.
I need more escapes, more temporary joy. I need to re-wire my brain: more sports, more music, more reading (books, not blogs), more exercise (biking, swimming, running, the “Y”). More religion and spituality. More interaction with family and friends and, you know, people. Less obsessive tracking of what the useful idiots in Washington are doing day in, day out, ad nauseum.
This also means I’ve about given up on my local and national newspapers and wire services like the AP. I’ll read the occasional piece here and there, but I’ll be a lot choosier on what I allow to hit my eyeballs. Life is just too short to read, or even think about, much of what passes for “news” these days.
So there ya go. I’m done. It’s been educational, and I guess overall I’m glad I did it, but I’m done with all that.
From now on, I carefully choose what kind of information I take in daily. I carefully choose the kinds of things I allow into my brain, taking up valuable space. Ain’t gettin’ no younger! And when I get old — ok, really old — and look back on my life, I don’t think I’ll wish I’d spent more time obsessing over things I couldn’t control, vs. things that bring me joy.
This is a promise I make to myself, and to my family.
Play ball!
Psssst! Over Here! 