Fall Seven Rise Eight

(Originally written and posted July 5th, 2024)

There is a proverb in Japan that if you fall seven times, you need to rise eight. This would aptly describe my life in the fewest number of words. There are so many barriers, so many hills to climb, and so many times I want to quit. We’re talking about my professional life, my personal life, and my own pursuits. There is one thing for certain, and to quote Churchill if, “if you’re going through Hell, keep going.”

Where to begin? Let’s talk about consistency. One day I’m certain that I’ll have the following I’d dream of, and they will note the time between these blog posts. My lack of consistency can be found at the gym, reading to my kids, or books read. It’s everywhere, and I’m aware of it. There is no such thing as a normal day in my life. Unless you want to factor in the thought that I’ll be going into work before the Sun rises and leave after it sets, there leaves little room to devote to other metrics what we may call a successful life. Still each day I rise again with the undying belief that it is a day of opportunity, but still skeptical on how much of what I want to finish (or even start) will take place.

We could share some thoughts on dedication. I am surrounded by the feelings of doubt in my head. Am I a good leader? Am I the best father? Should I do something differently for my wife? I blame that Philip Seymour Hoffman / Meryl Streep movie Doubt (2008) that had the best line, “I have so much doubt.” If the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, then I have my golden ticket punched. Still, I must rise each morning and do the work of a man.

I’m often conflicted with the thought that I really don’t need to be doing most of what I’m doing. I could ride out my time with the Navy with doing the bare minimum. I don’t have to seek all these roles and positions, and I certainly don’t need to do what I’m doing now. There was a taste of that though a few years ago. It was a time I wrote about at the beginning of The Whiskey Journal when I thought with all my heart that I was living in my last duty station before I was unceremoniously shown the door. The irony is that I was miserable. God gave me two working hands and a brain, and it’d be a shame if I did not apply them to make the people around me and my world better off. Calling it in and just getting by isn’t an option for me, but in contrast I fill my cup so full, my plate so high, that I’m left with a plethora of choices on what gets to be dropped, compromised, or tabled. Some may call this a good problem, but I carry shame with me for not being able to live up to the expectations I set up for myself. So often my ambition writes checks my ass can’t cash.

So, I do a lot of praying. There isn’t a lot of pomp and circumstance with it. Usually just me in my chair having a silent conversation. Some may accuse me of daydreaming, and although there are times they are not wrong, I’m probably speaking with God. Not for a lighter load, but for broader shoulders. This world is real, and I must keep going, I feel like my work isn’t done. Not that I could compare myself to Oskar Schindler, but there’s always at least one more person to help, one more project to accomplish, one more horizon to chase, one more mountain to climb. Just must do it one at a time.