Sometimes I feel like I’m not exactly living my life.
Sure, I’m breathing, eating, moving—I am ALIVE. There’s no question there. But many days, when I stop to think about it, I realize there are few times when I DO anything that has a real impact on the world.
As much as I love writing and editing, and I DO believe I play a valuable role in protecting the sanctity of the written word (and, I hope, making the world a slightly more beautiful or at least interesting place with all the words I put out there), I’m not exactly Alexander the Great, am I?
I’m not conquering lands, building an empire, or creating a legacy to last for thousands of years.
On the other hand, I’m also not slaughtering villagers, spreading disease, or enslaving the masses, so I suppose there’s a balance involved when it comes to living an impactful life.
All I’m saying is, sometimes I feel like I should be doing . . . MORE.
Instead of reading about other people’s exploits or watching the people on the screen save the world, I feel like I should be getting out there and having a few adventures of my own.
But let’s be honest: Who has the energy or the time? Between running, yoga, working at least 12 hours a day, keeping up with my zillion hobbies, and trying to maintain at least some semblance of a social life, there’s very little time (or motivation) left over for me to use to invade Persia—or even write a second daily haiku poem.
I guess the lesson is that we all affect the world in our own way and we have to learn to be happy with our unique (if tiny) role. And for the most part, I’m happy with mine. It may not be quite as exciting as, say, putting down a Mongol horde, but I like to think making books has some value.
Of course, if you happen to spot a rampaging Mongol (or other) horde, give me a shout. Maybe I’ll have enough energy after editing this history textbook to ride on out and save civilization. Just this once.
