“It’s goddamned exhausting. I’m so tired all the time.”

I’m in one of my favorite coffeehouses in Southeast, having just had a light lunch after my workout. A woman sitting across from me is generously sharing her table and its electric plug ins until a friend of hers is meant to arrive. We’re not talking, but I gather she’s a teacher- she’s in a hoodie in a coffee shop on a Sunday afternoon, flipping through resumes, books on pedagogy, and Classroom Safety manuals. I can only imagine what’s going on in her world at this moment, but I recognize the beleaguered groan as she clicks through her laptop.

When school children learn about this moment in American history, I wonder what the textbooks will call it. I personally vote for The Great Exhaustion- a moment in history where the only things there were plenty of were arrogance and opinions.

The winery is already feeling a squeeze from what I am diplomatically going to refer to from here on is The General Ambient Fuckery. Worried folks watch their wallets- pleasurable things like “going out to dinner at a nice winery” are at the front of the line to the budgetary axe, and even when people come out they keep the bill small. Event bookings, the rent-payer for spaces like ours, dwindle as well. Maybe we have weddings and memorial events (generously called “Celebration of Life”- if it’s going to be a retirement party, they just call it that) but the corporate events drop off as businesses start pinching their pennies. The executive retreats, the meet-and-greets, and corporate networking events pull back on their inquiries or simply cancel. If you are working for someone else, the business has to earn money so you can earn money, and you are never going to be the top priority for that– regardless of what politicians or your Human Resources department says.

It all feels like madness and chaos, and it’s easy- so damned easy– to feel hopeless, throw up our hands and give up making sense of anything. It’s easy to speak sagaciously of “going with the flow” and “the way of the world.” The problem is that Complacency and Ambivalence are the evil twins of Equanimity. You can imagine them stroking obvious goatees and twirling curlicued mustaches as folks cave, switch off the Daily Bummer, and wrap themselves in little luxuries while contently philosophizing about “having no preference” being the key to enlightenment.

Perhaps I have my anxiety to thank for this, but that kind of generic brand “equanimity” doesn’t vibe with me. My brain tells me to do something. Anything. It drags in concerns and fears that freeload in my forebrain and says “get out of your chair and do something or we will drive you insane.”

“Anything?” I say to my brain, getting ready to rules-lawyer the living hell out of my own conscious.
“YES, ANYTHING!” My anxious brain screams, high on its own supply of cortisol and common nightmare.
“Ok… then how about I lean into all the stuff I can control?”
Screeching brakes. Record scratch. My anxiety noses its soda and gasps. “Uh… well, yeah, I guess that counts…”
“Okay, you stay there then. I’m going to go for a run and then do some writing.”

“God give me the serenity to accept what I cannot change, the courage to change what I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
“As above, so below. As within, so without. As the universe, so the soul.”

As the General Ambient Fuckery (the GAF) has increased and devolved by the day, I’ve felt the need to find ANYTHING solid and reliable to cling on as much as the next guy. Routines are always good. It’s easy to lose myself in work as well (when there’s work to be done.) The little pleasures and things worth protecting in this world are still there and still good, even if some of them are a little pricier these days. Maybe Shakespeare should have included “prices rising” along with death and taxes as certainties of life.

Those are distractions though- what we seek and what we need for ourselves as we wade through the GAF is a sense of control and agency. You can see that most frequently in businesses where (usually male) managers feel like too many things in the business aren’t necessarily “out of hand” as out of their hands, so they assert dominance over whatever seemingly paltry details they can. “I may be a middle manager with no real say in how things happen, but goddammit I’m gonna make sure everyone is using professional email signatures!”

I’m perfectly fine with my email signature, I’m not so insecure that I’d try to order my wife around, and I’m not so stupid I’d try to order Cleo to do anything besides “stay fuzzy” and “be a sweet little loaf.” (Cleo is very much a specialist and those tasks are firmly in her wheelhouse.)

That leaves me. What can I do with, for, or about me that gives a sense of stability and control? Damn near anything I want to. The world may be a dumpster fire and the deluge of GAF may not be stopping anytime soon, but you can decide what to do with yourself, your time, and your energy. No one is ever going to look out for you as much as you will, and any story we tell ourselves- if we are going to thrive rather than just survive- needs to begin and end with us being responsible for ourselves.

That’s one big reason I stepped back from social media- to reclaim my time and my energy. It’s also why, when it comes to losing weight, I’ve decided to put aside the ideas I had of “what I used to do won’t work the same on a body 10 years older and on brain meds.”
“I’ve seen it work,” I said, “so fuck it. I’m gonna do everything I can manage to do and remember about how I did it last time.” Will it work? Maybe- but dammit I’m doing something instead of sitting still and sucking down all the GAF around me, pretending to be a bodhisattva.

One of my favorite works that I’ve reread several times over is Dante’s Divine Comedy. I have an excellent translation with notes by John Ciardi which preserves and explains the history, symbolism, and humor of a masterful example of allegory, metaphor, and fan fiction (it’s a fact, deal with it.) I named this piece for my very favorite line in the whole work. After saving Dante in the woods, guiding him (and sometimes literally dragging him) through Hell and up the mountain of Purgatory, the shade of the poet Virgil has finally reached as far as he is permitted to go. A “virtuous pagan,” he is a resident of Limbo- a circle of Hell where there is no pain or torment, but also no hope.

Dante’s course takes him onward into the Terrestrial Paradise and beyond. As the symbol of Human Reason, Virgil has taken Dante as far as intellect can go before Divine Love and Grace (personified by Beatrice) must take over. As they enter the Terrestrial Paradise- the very best the mortal world can offer- Virgil’s last words to Dante are “Lord of yourself I crown and mitre you.” “I’ve taken you all this way, you no longer need guidance from me. I entrust you to yourself.”

We can worry, we can fear, we can doubt, but we are ultimately masters of ourselves. Responsible for ourselves. The only person you can ever count on to look out for only you is you. Act accordingly, and stop waiting for someone else to save the day.

Stay Classy,