There is this Ingrid Micahelson song that I love – You and I.
It came on quite sporadically in my mix of iPod tunes as I was rushing to catch the subway to work this morning. I was frazzled and a little hung over. I had a bag full of food and juice for the day – the kind of stash I put together for a hiking trip or a picnic.
Today, it was my survival kit for weekend work.
Then Ingrid's song began and I smiled without knowing it until someone smiled back and I realized that I was pushing happiness outward.
It's a nice little diddy about love and life.
My favourite lines:
"Let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France. Let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance."
It makes me smile because I have goals posted in my home. Things I want – and will – achieve in this lifetime. Some this year. Some in 5 years. Some so far away I'm not sure i'll make it there, but if I do there are goals to achieve.
One says: Take my mom on a trip to France in 5 years. I pay.
Another says: Fly my family to Vancouver on my dime. All of them. At once.
I started the day with a tinge of resentment for entrepreneurialism and my steadfast commitment to work over play. I would miss a run with my friends on the first sunny day in weeks. I wouldn't play fetch with Harley. I would miss Stu's first symphony. I would not meet my best guy friends at Local for a pint. I would not have time to skype mom. I would miss Sherie's call ... again. I would say "working" when Chris texted "what are you up to?" and I'd say "Sorry, I can't" when Sam asked if I wanted to go to Adam's gig with her.
I would miss a handful of important moments and disappoint a handful of truly beautiful people, but I would do it for what matters most to me: not the work, but the goals. And the progress toward those goals.
Every weekend of work is a step closer.
Every evening in front of the computer screen is a notch in my belt.
Every disappointment today will be worth a thousand smiles and hugs and warm satisfaction tomorrow.
And when I am feeling overwhelmed or when the light at the end of the tunnel seems dim, it's a nice reminder that I'm in this thing to make a difference, to build a miraculous life, to bring smiles and contentment to my family, and to build something I can be proud of.
So I soldier on, because it's actually kinda fun and I'm getting close to the peak now. And the view is mindblowing.
