The Right Choice, Once.
A conversation with my childhood self and child-aged son. Life is shaped by our choices. Some can only be made once.
Thirty-Five Thousand. This is how many decisions that we make daily. Decisions that shape us over time. Things like; take a shower, brush teeth, pants then shirt? Or maybe brush teeth, shower, shirt then pants? Eat better, go to the gym, drink more water. We all know these choices and we all try to mitigate the damage as we flow with the rapids of life. Small changes over time act as fine-tuning exercises, our micro choices will create the same effect. We build the mold of ourselves and the house we live in, one grain of sand at a time. We are the architect and carpenter of our own design. Building with tiny pieces is tedious but easily manageable. If we choose poorly, we have the opportunity to try again tomorrow. But what about The Right Choice, Once?
What is The Right Choice, Once? These are the choices that determine who we are at the core of ourselves. The choices that make up the foundation, location, and building materials of the house of our Being. The Right Choice, Once; are the choices that determine if you build your house on shifting sand or firm stone. To build near a stream in a lush paradise or the unforgiving desert full of dust and famine. To build the frame with steel or rotting wood. They are the choices that determine our fortitude against adversity and strength of character. They become the compass that determines our direction in life. Over time our micro choices will determine the details and scenery. But The Right Choice, Once; will determine the person on the path and the stones underfoot.
It is from early childhood that we start to make these choices. And it is from the mouth of a child that prompted my renewed focus. My son asked me, “Where is your dad?” And like many innocent and simple questions. The answers are not always so simple. With reluctance and hesitation for my value of the truth. I answered truthfully. “He died a long time ago, buddy.” I’m sure anyone reading this would naturally ask or guess what his next question was, “How did he die?” The thought of the word “loaded” came to mind. That word seemed inadequate to describe the amount of information behind his question. Because the answer stemmed from a man’s lifetime of choices. The choices that led him to his house of Being. That house we avoid as a passerby. The house of pain. The house manufactured with suffering, addiction, lies, and regret.
“He was shot and killed buddy.” The words were weighted with hints of scar tissue. I tried to cloak them in a matter-of-fact fashion. It must have been my eyes that gave away the truth. I could see the reflection in his. The truth isn’t always the best-tasting medicine but it is traditionally the remedy when dosed properly. The follow-up questions and answers were catered to his age, 10. I wanted to answer them in a way that was easy to understand, with a story.
A story about a father who taught his son lessons through his commitment to his sicknesses. Lessons ascertained by watching a man who built his house on shifting sands in the desert with rotting wood. A narrative built around a man and his choices. And the child who moved out of that house of pain. Set on an expedition to pave his own path. With the aim to build a better house of Being. Armed only with the blueprints his father left behind. An outline of designs, tools, and materials of what didn’t work. 1
Part 1 of The Right Choice, Once. Part 2 will be available Thursday, Sep. 23