Who said–“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias Pharaoh Rameses II (reigned 1279-1213 BCE). According to the OED, the statue was once 57 feet tall., King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
– Percy Bysshe Shelley
“Carpe Diem!” said Horace in 44 BC. “Fill your days with meaningful activities,” says my father.
I have reached an age where the word “mortality” makes its way into my thoughts and conversations more than any previous time. I am staring at the big 5-0 in a few months and have had the epiphany that “this isn’t going to last forever.” Recently there have been a lot of health scares and “early departures” from good friends, loved ones and respected members of the community, many of whom were close in age with me. It’s been way too close for comfort.
In June of 2015, my family stood at the crossroads of the life cycle as my wife Alissa was pregnant and my mom was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. The collision course of life’s spectrum was overwhelming and could short-circuit even the most ambitious foot soldier like myself.
Just in the time I have been in Bixby Knolls, the greater community has lost: Long Beach icon Mark Bixby, musician; Ikey Owens, tech leader; Marcus Manley, media guru; Shaun Lumachi, Port of Long Beach face; Steven Macias, political master; Eric Bradley, creative force; Joshua Fischel; plus a list of other esteemed “city folks.” And shall I provide a list of favorite entertainers that have recently left us, too?
We lost my mom on Oct. 9, 2015.
If this wasn’t enough of a mortality check for me, two other good friends had issues. One fellow workaholic just had a minor heart attack, and a very close friend of mine suddenly lost his father.
We are going to lose people. That is the harsh reality of things. Mr. Black hovers around us all and taps us on the shoulder at his discretion. This motivates me to work at a hard-fast pace.
All the time.
After hours and on weekends, too.
I try to out run Mr. Black every day. I admit to being overcommitted, and I don’t really know how to say “no.” I want a project a day. I want results each day. I want to create something and have people “look on my works” just like Ozymandias. In my spare moments of time that I do have, I try to dry write, take photos and even create my own fanzine.
But I have been surrounded by hard-working, hard-driven people who left us too early. There is value in productive daily work, contributing to the greater good and chasing the Holy Grail, but not at the risk of working yourself to death or not taking the time to enjoy the ride. Try as we might to leave our mark, one day we will be a name on a headstone or exist in a stack of photographs.
I recognize all of the above. I talk a lot about putting on the brakes a little and getting more fit before I enter my next half century. It’s for the sake of my wife, for our baby, and for my own well-being. I have to stop wishing it to happen and make it happen. I have committed to go on more vacations in 2017 and take days off. I’ll leave my notebook and checklists at home when I leave the office.
Carpe diem is fine as long as you smell the roses along the way. We can all run the race, build the pyramids, create, contribute, sit on panels, commissions and boards, but finding the balance is more like a Holy Grail in the long run. I have to slow it down and soak it all up. For my wife, for my 1-year-old daughter and for me and my hopes of longevity and legacy. Trying to book flights to Portland, Seattle, Austin, Chicago, Boston and even to Vicksburg, Mississippi.
Can you relate?
