Excess
I began this post by looking for a quote from Michelangelo.
I remember hearing that when someone asked Michelangelo how he sculpted David, his most famous work, he replied by saying he removed from the unmolded clay everything that wasn’t David. It made such perfect sense—I was sure he said it.
I was so enamored by this concept that I bought Michaelangelo’s book of poetry. While the concept of removing the excess to get to what is beautiful was not a part of that collection, his verse was excellent.
I’ve thought about the miracle of the mundane in this same way. We’ve got to remove what is not in order to reveal what is. And what is is beautiful. The tasks we view as ordinary—raising children, working for a paycheck, caring for a home—are brilliant acts of profound significance once you clear away the rubbage that claims these things are boring and monotonous.
I knew, upon starting this post, that I was struggling with this idea, lately. And I thought that once I found the quote I would also find my writing prompt: an idea to toss around for you, the reader, to have as bi-monthly proof that sometimes it takes Amazing Grace just to tell it like it is.
But I couldn’t find anything valid on the internet about Michelangelo saying anything remotely close to it. In fact, not long after searching, I discovered that he is misquoted, like so many a meme out there. The story of Michelangelo’s response was churned around in the mind en masse for long enough that it cemented as fact.
I scratched the idea of starting with it until I realized that the lie was exactly the point.
We are bombarded by a world of falsehood.
Getting to the truth is an arduous task. Most of us reading this post will have to take a drive to find a tree that wasn’t planted by a human. We will spend more time reading screens today than we will a human face. It’s hard to pass a day without listening to a computerized voice trying to convince us that the humans that will eventually take the call care deeply about our customer service experience.
When you get down to it, most of what we experience today will more closely resemble a fact of reality, not a truth.
There is a big difference there. The fact is that I need my paycheck. I need the health insurance covered therein for my family. I need the car I drive in to get to work. I need to find a way to eat three square meals today to be of maximum usefulness at work and at home. But the truth? The truth is that I need to find purpose at work, meaning at home. I need to revel in the presence of my children more than I need to worry about their health. It would be better for me to spend the 10 minutes it takes to add a little something into their college account building forts from feathers and slaying imaginary dragons. It’s difficult, in the day to day, to separate fact from truth.
And lately, I’ve been suffering for it.
Something tells me—and comment or hit me up if you know what I’m talking about—that I need to be doing more. It is a perpetual motor in my brain whose only aim is to convince me that something is lacking. If I only get this book published, then I’ll be happy. If I only can finish renovating this bathroom, then I can rest. If I only finally balance the books a little better, I’ll look into a vacation.
I receive these thoughts under the guise of usefulness. Of course I shouldn’t book some vacation I can’t afford. But there are undercurrents that, when taken as a whole, gather into a far more powerful wave: what I have now, or worse, who I am now, is not enough. My life needs amendments. I need to read better books or work harder so that I can eventually find the time to do the things I really want to. It resembles the classic American dilemma of working a lifetime in order to enjoy retirement only to retire and have nothing in your life worth enjoying because all you know is your work.
This—workaholism, or what my sponsor calls getting hooked on measurable results—is dangerous ground for addicts or anyone who knows the habit-forming itch in self-improvement. A typical cycle of behavior for me is:
- 1) find the thing that changes how I feel
- 2) obsess over finalizing that change in me forever
- 3) wallow in despair upon realizing that whatever affects me is impermanent
I have spent every day since August (up until searching unsuccessfully for a quote by Michelangelo) telling myself that once I get this house where it needs to be, I will focus on writing again. Writing, see, is what makes me ultimately happy. I’ve accepted that through a lot of pain. But I’ve put a lot ahead of that. Whether it’s landscaping, hammering nails, installing fixtures or building foundations, I have repeatedly neglected my need to write.
The litany of tasks race through my mind all day. They are the first thing I think of in the morning. I tell myself it’s for the family; it’s for this baby entering our lives in September. But there is something else happening here. I am hooked on a new cure, fixated on the idea of finishing something—a home—that will always be in flux.
By focusing so heavily on this cure for other obsessions, I replace one fix with another. Then by degrees, it’s no longer writing that I’m neglecting, but my family or the students I teach. This mental narrative that I should be somewhere else doing something else roots in every inch of mental soil.
These patterns always become, for me, that extra unmolded clay that I was once told Michelangelo removed to sculpt the slayer of Goliath. It becomes part of the vast excess that keeps from seeing the gift of life as it truly is: beautiful.
There is enough contradiction in the world. The least I can do to combat it is to be at one with who I am and what I do. While one person trimming the excess in his life will not solve the world’s hypocrisy, at least it won’t be contributing to it.
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I absolutely love this Mark. Your honesty and self – reflection always brings a smile to my mind. The truth hidden and the incessant need to be doing more. Write, write, write fellow ink spiller. The truth seems to out within the lines you type.
A good man once gave me some of the best advice I’ve ever had the grace of receiving. He simply advised me to ” just be “. Wonderful I thought.
Of course I struggle with this on a daily basis but still…… Peace ✌️👣
“Fellow ink spiller.” Thank you for that, Sam. I like that phrase very much. Much love to you and wishing you peace likewise. The struggle will always be worth it. Mark
Mark – always profound, probing thought. It conjures up in my mind the importance of creating order to the chaos we each live. My chaos may be different than yours but I spent a lifetime trying to impose order to each day, week, month, year of my life. If I don’t, someone or something else will.
It’s also about accepting that perfection is unachievable and being at least content, if not happy, that striving for perfection is the joy. And, I think it also is about accepting responsibility for those markers we lay down in our life – family, work, students, self, etc. Hard lessons, indeed, for each of us who walk that path whether addiction to a substance, fear of failure, fear of success, unwillingness to accept responsibility for what we have created in our lives.
I think about fishing a lot – I love to fish and it brings back memories of time, special time with my father. So, I mentally pine to fish more and chastise myself that I don’t fish very much at all. I can walk to a wonderful river to fish but I don’t do it very much . So, the reality that I have to accept is that my supposed primal need to fish is a bit of a hoax because all my life I have chosen other things over fishing – children, grandchildren, marriage, love, golf, basketball, tennis, etc, etc.
It was decades before the head fake my mind put me through on fishing settled into a truth that my romanticized perception of something I thought was one of my life primary needs wasn’t even in the top 20 priorities – ever! So, there’s a little bit of burying the past (those memories with my dad), not killing it but reordering that point in the chaos. And, fishing is just one of hundreds of those things that need to be sorted out and reordered. Not a simple task! And, surviving the reordering, let alone thriving while at it, is not a gimme putt.
Fun to read your thoughts and know the joy you are receiving in your life for family and friends. Thanks for sharing a part of you. We are better people from that experience.
Uncle Mark – Thank you for such a thorough and thoughtful response. One of the best things this blog has done is brought me closer (and that weird modern way) to friends and family. I don’t think of myself as a sharer. Or a ‘let’s call Mark and check in’ kind of guys. So this blog, and your comments, allow me to keep up with you and others in the family and have check-ins like this. So, thank you for responding.
There’s a lot to chew on in your post. I am most certainly in that stage of my life where I am ordering everything by the minute it seems. There is a lot of exciting happenings as a result, but it does feel sometimes that I am so busy creating order from that chaos that my tolerance for chaos (say in the form of a kid drawing markers all over the table) is too low. I think there is a lot more love in the chaos than in the order is what I’m saying. I have trouble striking balance anywhere in life. I come to balance in periods of extreme behavior. My scales are always tipped.
On the fishing. I hear you about it no longer being a priority and the acceptance that must come of that, but, do you want to take a trip this summer? You may not have done it much but you are more experienced than I am. I’d love to take Everett with me on a local trip. (this includes Delaware) And I know if you say yes to the invite that we’d make it work and not just talk about it. I seem to promise him those trips but never follow through. I’d like to change that.
What I like most about your comment (for the sake of the blog) is that you’ve identified how thoughts like these relate to the world outside of recovery from addiction. I always start my writing by thinking about my recovery and it’s nice to know I am (and for the readers, we are) not alone in these sorts of struggles. I think addicts tend to think of themselves as snowflakes. There’s even a term for it in some pamphlets I’ve read: “Terminally Unique”.
Peace,
Mark
Mark: Excellent though piece for anyone to ponder. The disease of “if only”. If only, I hadn’t read your post today I would be happier, more content. But, your words stirred something today. Thank you, I think!
Love, Dwight
I sure know what you are talking about!
In fact, when I retired, I had no idea who Wendy was! All I knew was teaching!
Carve out a bit of time to write!
For you to write is breathing life!
xo
Wendy
And what a gift (self-knowledge) that was. Amazing you spent so much time not knowing how incredible Wendy truly is! Been thinking and praying for you, Wendy. You are in my thoughts often.
Mark, I speak from age of not from wisdom: the good news is that you KNOW the truth. I encourage you to try to follow that with the actions. In 20-30 years, what you’ll look back upon is the fort building. Of that I am sure.
Well that was really well put. Sort of hit me just right in a long sigh kind of way.
Mark, I typically don’t comment, but feel compelled to encourage you to keep writing. I’m learning to listen and respond in obedience to my destiny set before me. When I get off track ‘Holy’ will pick me up again and direct me to God’s will. Trust. We have all we need when we believe.
Your thoughts are respected and appreciated.
Katie, message received. I appreciate your thoughtful response. I will keep it up. And I thank you for your support. That track is there, isn’t it? The narrow path as it were.
Ah! my reply got erased! So I will just say I agree with Hearon: the good news is that you “KNOW”.
Thank you Elva. Sorry your reply got erased. I know very little about these computer and IT things. Thanks for stopping by and leaving a word.
Yes my friend, we replace one with another; for we are seekers, doomed to aimlessly roam lest we find our purpose.
Alas, it is our fate.
Mat, many happy returns on this special day. Congrats on your sobriety! I know a saying around here. A lot of old-timers use it. “Defend your sobriety” at all costs! Happy Anniversary friend.
Hi Mark, Somehow I just saw a link to your blog/website — sorry I hadn’t realized it before.
It’s alive and great! Nice photos, honest and visually engaging writing.
There’s a lot in this post that I can relate to, and probably everybody can relate to, if they are honest with themselves.
Well, for me, anyway, to counteract some of the negative forces of which you speak, I try to focus on what is “enough,” at least sometimes. We don’t always have to be perfect or the best, or have the most, or whatever. I mean, sometimes, it’s nice, but many times, what we are already doing or what we already have is plenty, maybe even amazingly abundant. That is not to say striving for the best is bad, but that “enough” can also be great.
Also, balance is key. As a writer/parent who is on the other end of raising kids (2 of my 3 are already adults), I can say that there will be an ebb and a flow, and there will be times when you can’t write, months even, but you can swing back to it again. Things don’t have to balance out at the end of every day, like a grocery account, but sort of in general, over time, different amounts of time, depending on various factors.
And kid number three can be the charm. The chaos is so all-encompassing that you break free and live in the moment, toys strewn about, washer and drying churning, food boiling over, toddlers laughing and crying, kids marveling at acorns and construction equipment and dogs. It’s mundane and miraculous, yes. Congrats!
Thanks Kristi. I like your description of the long term balancing of the writers life. Not marking the daily progress, but the monthly or even yearly! I’m such a nut about the daily stuff. Need to let that go.
Glad you found the blog. I’m not in the custom of talking about it to people. I feel, often, that the digital and the in-person are two different worlds. This helps me stay sane. It’s always great to have a friend in ally in both. For that, I am truly grateful.
And thanks for your suggestions concerning this phone call I have tonight. Very helpful. Look forwarding to discussing your work at the next HWG installment!
Mark
I completely empathize with your fixation on things…thinking that completing them will somehow finally put things in order, once and for all.
It never seems to work.
I am forever reminding myself of my mantra; stillness and peace. It’s tattooed on my arm. Otherwise I forget and go back to seeking.
Hug your kids. Build a fort. Hammer some nails. And write. Embrace it all, even the boring moments. Life is a gift.
Anne
Thanks Anne. Appreciate the note. Always good to know I’m not alone. Stillness and peace. What a gift! Im working on it.
Mark, Taylor sent me this link because she knew it was exactly what I needed to read. All I can say is, thank you.
Hi Bridie. You’re welcome. Glad it could help.
Yes, I can relate. I have made the decision to practice contentment, but it’s hard because I always think whatever I’m doing is wrong. But I find it easier to follow God’s will if I remind myself that I have everything I need right now and sit with gratitude.
But, yeah, I also still think there’s something else I should be doing. It’s hard. So thank you for posting this because, as always, it’s helpful to know I’m not alone in my thinking.
I like the phrasing of that. Sit with gratitude. You are certainly not alone. We’re all in this thing together.