You Can't Go Home Again

After reading three books (ranging from 80 to 200 pages each) in the span of about a week, I got challenged to read one that might take more than just a couple of days. I obliged. And just a month and three weeks later, I've finished this massive epic novel, You Can't Go Home Again by Thomas Wolfe. Whew.This book came to me in a box with six other books (two of which were read as noted above), all with little neon green post-it notes attached. Some notes gave a three- or four-word summary, some a reference to why the sender thought I might enjoy it. The note attached to this particular book: "My favorite book." 

For the details of the book, you can read it yourself. As for what I got out of it, I'm happy to share. The title of the book is anything but true. You most certainly can go home again. But what you find there is never going to be what you remembered. We tend to go to extremes when we think about our pasts--we glorify or vilify whatever we remember and use it all to our advantage or disadvantage, whichever works best in the moment. The looking back, in and of itself, makes it difficult to move forward. So we spend a lot of time turned around, looking at the past analyzing it and figuring out where we went wrong, all the while we stand still, looking back at something that will never be again. It's not that there's no importance in looking back and figuring out what the hell happened back there, but there's something to be said for not pulling off the road in order to do so. Especially for something that no longer exists, save inside our minds.

There are parts of this book that are written so eloquently and truthfully about life and the way we go through it (albeit written in the 1930's), and the way we use our egos to maneuver through this piece and that and ultimately sacrifice the things we want for the things we think we ought to have. It's these portions that made me contemplate my own ego in this capacity. The idea that I have a past but don't use it against my future in order to "succeed." The idea that I have a future and don't discard my past in order to bypass the trickery of achieving a future at all. The idea that what happens in my reality is not only my reality, but a portion others' as well. That my world not only affects my self and my ego, but that it has effects on all mankind, even if I should choose not to believe so. That what goes on in the world is not just something happening some place else, but that this is all our home, my home and ought to be looked on with familial care. That just because what happens "over there" doesn't affect me over here, it has a great impact on the world in which I choose to live. That my existence, while mostly lived in the solitude of my own head (and briefly spilled out onto the pages of the internet via private journal or public blog), is not just my own (in part, because of these things). There is more to me than just what I see. And just what I say. And just what I remember. Because every time I try to go back where I once was, it is always someplace different, and thus, so am I. And that became clear to me as I read this book, in all its glorious 704 paperback pages. 

This feels a little cut off, but that's really all I have to offer right now. I'm trying this thing where I post what I have to post instead of saving draft after draft after draft because it's just not right quite yet and then sits there for three weeks or four months before I delete it because it's no longer relevant. And there you have it. 

Just one more thing: I wonder what makes this book anyone's "favorite book"? Not because I think it can't possibly be, but because the things that become our favorites become so because they've touched us in such a way that can never be forgotten. I cannot say that this is my favorite book, but it's touched me in such a way to see that it's possible.

The Dip

I started reading The Dip yesterday afternoon. Between a few pages then, a few pages last night, and a few pages this morning, I finished the 80-page book before I got out of bed. As I read through the pages I started to think about the areas in my own life where I've quit before or during the Dip, as well as the times I've pushed on, all the way to the end of the Cul De Sac, or even carried myself right over the Cliff. 

The Dip is is the place where it gets hard, but if you're good at what you do and really lean into it, you can push yourself through and come out successful because you've been able to be "the best in the world" at what you do (page 6). The Cul De Sac is the dead end that leads you nowhere but to the end of the street because that's just all there is (page 19). And the Cliff is the act of committing and then completely falling off the edge due to your commitment--as in dying of emphysema due to 20 years of smoking or buying a gym membership and then never going to the gym (page 20).

I've realized that much of my time in my former company was spent in the Cul De Sac. I was never going to become Executive Management, but I kept pushing upward, just the same. At some point, the opportunity for growth ceased to exist, and I failed to realize it. As a result, I became bored with my job, abandoned something I was really good at (helping people grow), and accepted multiple positions that exhausted me because I started from scratch and lead myself down a path I really didn't want to go down (the corporate life). I didn't realize it at the time, but quitting that job was the best thing I could have done for myself; it was the only way to keep from circling the Cul De Sac (aka Drain). 

As I've embarked on my writing career, I've come to learn that writing a book--being a writer--has a huge Dip. For all the writers that are out there and successful, there are ten times as many unsuccessful and failed writers. Writing a book is hard. You have to write. Every day. Even when you don't want to, even when you don't think it's good. There was the initial excitement of quitting my job and being a writer, but the honeymoon wore off pretty quickly. When there was no income. When there was no structure. When there are no words. The honeymoon is over, and it's just me. And my head. And the Dip. 

Without even realizing it, I seem to have prepared for this Dip (albeit a little late in my process), by hiring a Life Coach to coach me through finishing the book. The first part of growth is becoming aware. I have finally acknowledged that this is going to be harder than I thought. I've reevaluated my priorities, and writing this book is still at the top of the list. My vision for what the book will be is now crystal clear, and it's a matter of pressing through. Through the days I don't want to write, through the days I think my writing is crap, through the days of starting new chapters and throwing out old ones, and finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. 

The whole point is to process through it, because if I don't then I'm just like all the unsuccessful writers before me who set out on a journey and turned around just before they hit their stride. I will hit my stride. I will lean into this Dip and hit my stride. And ride it all the way to the New York Times Best Seller List. I envision this every day. Not because it's easy, but because I want it that bad.

I don't think it's necessary to buy The Dip or even to read it in order to find out if you're close to the Dip, headed down the Cul De Sac or over the Cliff. I think asking yourself the question is the first step. And if you think you want the book, email me. I'll send it to you for free. First come, first serve. As long as you promise to pass it on when you're done.