After service in the Marine Corps and a career in law enforcement, I am mission oriented to a high degree and, much like Captain Willard in the film Apocalypse Now, in the absence of a defined mission any number of identifiable character flaws pop to the surface. I get edgy. I trend toward excuses. I get a lazy streak and don’t hold myself accountable the way I normally would. I go internal and, while externally composed, inside my cranium I am a banshee shouting at thunderstorms. This isn’t unique to me by the way, it’s really all of us, as described in Newton’s First Law of Motion: a body at rest will stay at rest unless acted on by an external force.
I haven’t exactly been at rest. Not precisely. But I have lost an edge I once enjoyed and while it may not be noticeable to others, it is ever-present in my own mind. Perhaps now more than ever, having just crossed into my 53rd year on earth. This awareness may be, in some respects, what is popularly known as a mid-life crisis, although that cheapens the discussion. What I’m experiencing isn’t a crisis. It’s a reckoning, as if some bell were pealing in the distance that I am pre-programmed to respond to.
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