Getting More Specific

"When I was growing up I always wanted to be someone. Now I realize I should have been more specific." --Lily Tomlin


She has a point, doesn't she?   


While this subject is one that can get deeply intellectual and take volumes of space, I will not be digging in that hard...no point in trying to juggle the whole of philosophy and identity in a blog entry, right?  Of course, that doesn't stop some people, it seems.

But anyway, here's the thing--I think we all have made choices and taken so many turns that we feel the inevitable pull of what if I had done something else--gone the other way? Who would I be today?  

That simple split is the foundation of everything from existentialism to time stream theorizing.  It's what gives us the thrill of historic or science fiction and the inspiration of Robert Frost poetry quoted at a thousand graduation ceremonies.

In an oversimplifying way, existentialism can be seen as a flowchart system for life: we are the sum and result of our chain of yes/no decisions.  That premise can easily seem to create different resulting personalities, but we forget that all too often the lines on those charts have a way of merging down the road.

Looked at another way, one science fiction series I enjoyed reading as a young man regarding the subject of time travel (Simon Hawke's "Timewars", although certainly not the only stories to hit on ideas like this one) suggested that time was like a river--that the metaphor of a time "stream" was remarkably apt.  The concept of change was addressed as such: some changes of events are the equivalent of throwing a pebble in that stream--the water goes around it immediately, swallows it so no change is really evident; some changes would be more significant, much like throwing a boulder of size into the waters--forcing the flow to come back together after a gap; while other alterations could be critical, the equivalent of forking the river or even damming it up altogether.  

What am I getting at here?  Well, let's face it: having the bagel instead of the cereal for breakfast did not alter the course of your life--that's the pebble in the stream, the flowchart option box that returns you to the main line regardless.  Not ALL our choices shape who we are, certainly not on a fundamental level, even though the chaos theoreticians would have you believe not only did that bagel potentially matter, but so did the shape of the spiderweb outside and the flap of a butterfly's wings, etc....there's only so far that one could consider going down that route before you become immobilized with concern for the implications.


So when we wonder about the choices and the results, we are generally more curious about those river-fork incidents, or what my favorite author, Sir Terry Pratchett, likes to refer to in some of his works as "the Trousers of Time": those junctures at which you find yourself going down one leg of the time stream or the other.


If I had taken this job instead of that one, moved here instead of there, did this with my money instead of that...if, if, if....  See, these are the things that can keep you up at night if you let them--the things that can make even the most satisfied and relaxed person muse on the implications: would I be the same person today?  What would be different in my life?


These issues are not of the Frank Capra "It's a Wonderful Life" bent--we do not typically ask ourselves the "what if I were never around" question like George Bailey does...at least not if we have any sort of positive outlook.  It takes a thoroughly negative soul to theorize that life would be better without one's very existence, or at least to think that for more than an instant.


No, these are the matters that we usually worried about at the time we made the decision in the first place, or perhaps entertained second thoughts in short order.  Lots of those choice points may involve our professional lives, but for plenty of folks the choices might be more about relationships...each of us has a personal list, whether it's one we keep track of or have moved beyond (or ignored, and as Rush sang, "if you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice").  Either way, just as no two people are the same, no two lists would be the same.


Let me bring this back to me for a second...hey, my blog, my rules.


See, I have had lots of times in my life where I've dwelt on the "what ifs" and wondered where I would be with a change here and there, if I'd have any piece of fame, or wealth, or whatever, instead of what would be considered by some on the outside to be a remarkably average middle-aged life.


But--and here's where we reach the sappy emotional payoff ending of what you thought was an otherwise cerebral discussion--I can look at my son and see that everything was done the right way, so long as he was the result.  

One more pop culture reference comes into play here: Watchmen, by Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons.  If you're familiar with the seminal graphic tale (or even the faithful-to-a-fault film), you know that this same realization is part of what saves the world...if you don't know the story by now, the odds that you care about any spoilers will be ridiculously low, so I continue...Dr. Manhattan has dismissed the flawed and self-destructive human race as beneath rescue or redemption--until he understands the beauty of creating unique individual life (even from dark circumstances or amid tragic times) as he gazes upon Laurie (all of which happens on Mars, but let's not get distracted further).


Maybe I could've followed another path, made other choices, but at what cost?
My place in life is a good one right now: my wife, my son, my job, my house, my car, all fit me--the me I have become, have CHOSEN to become...by following my Imperfect Compass, of course.

I look at my son, my captivating nine-year-old boy, and watch him grow into an amazing young man--see him read books I loved at his age, thrill as he develops into quite the soccer player, listen to his evolving appreciation of the world around him, shake my head as he does things without thinking them through...all of it.

The choices that matter are no longer the ones in my past, but the ones I can help him with in the future.  I am exactly where I was meant to be, precisely the result of the right choice that got me to him..."and that has made all the difference."


My Choice Song for the Post: "Dancing Nancies" - Dave Matthews Band
  (not a better song in mind for the core of this discussion--it's exactly about the question, "could I have been--anyone other than me?")
My iPod's Choice via Shuffle:"Room Full of Mirrors" - Jimi Hendrix
  (well, I suppose what's more appropriate than that if you are asking questions of yourself?)