The Richest People on the Planet

The Sunday evening of the year.

That's where we are. The question being--do you go to sleep early in anticipation of a great Monday or stay up and twist yourself out trying to grasp a little extra weekend?

I gave a copy of my book to a guy at my gym. He's a multi-published writer about four or five books into paying his dues to New York. Has the same agent as some of the heaviest currently practicing writers. Guys who get on Oprah and don't show up--like that. 60s big name standards.

He liked it. A great deal. And said his agent wouldn't even have time to read it (though she'd probably love it, he said). Nor would any of his press contacts.

Which brings us to my point exactly: we're too busy to make a decent culture (he has largely shelved his personal literary ambitions to succeed in the literary world). And too proud/whatever to pay for one to be created for us. The true cost.

It's not a matter of ability, or desire, but of belief. We don't believe that this world is possible.

So it's not.

It's as simple as that.

We're the most powerful people on the planet. And what we say goes. And we are skeptical.

So we get skepticism. Literally live in it. And make choices based on it. And so get more.

But this is a fact I spit out. Because that's what it deserves. Not that doubt hasn't served us very well. I myself have been the grateful beneficiary of many of it's gifts. It's just that I'm at the point where any doubt I need will almost follow me around like a perpetual motion machine. So intrinsic is it to my being.

But it's not even time. Because he holds it in his hand and can't believe. Knows his agent--who got into publishing, I am certain, for the absolute love and joy of it all--wouldn't even read it.

We can't see it until we believe it can exist. And then. of course, it's on.

I've been thinking very brief thoughts about this connection for a while. The average American spent over 140 days last year consuming media of various forms. But I'm sure the bulk of that was by people who have a bit more time than my intended audience.

I'm starting to think--no feel--that time and belief are radically connected. If we believe, we have time right? If we believe, then every moment is a gift. Something to be savored. And I'm getting there.

I realize that my de fault position to the universe is no. And that once in a while I'm overwhelmed by a preponderance of evidence to yes.

Growing up I learned somewhere that knowing who was bad and or wrong would save the world. Know the right politics, the right companies, the right people and the right knowledge and things will be better.

But that assumed that huge swaths of the world were wrong--a fact the became more glaring to me than any rightness. Certainly than any feeling of right.

Now I find that it's my "knowledge of what is right"--or even what could be better, that is holding me back. It's the fraternity members I thought were so whatever in college. It's the jocks, the ditzes, the scrubs.

I want to believe everything and everyone. Maybe not like they want to be believed, I don't think I'm at risk of being someone's patsy, but believe that they are. That they're right--for them--essentially--even if they themselves don't believe that.

I want to operate from a foundation of possibility and the positive. Have that as my fall back position. My neutral. My wake up.

For example, today. I was driving back from the gym, having achieved this viewpoint and able to hold it and was driving when a car appeared parked in the middle of my lane. I immediately went to "what the...?", but when I looked at it rationally (not even emotionally or spiritually) I realized that I had no where to go as the light just past the guy was red. Why didn't I wait to see if my travel was really affected before I jumped? If it wasn't a blessing in disguise.

Why wasn't I marveling that I was driving at all--in a great car with orderly and tidy traffic. That I had Friday off enough to be at the gym until 2pm?

What would be enough for me to see what was instead of what wasn't?