I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Seriously, more thinking than usual. And as I've just spent almost the entire weekend in bed, I've had a lot of uninterrupted thinking. This is not a good thing for me, and I have not entirely ruled out the possibility that the thinking laid me out in the first place. Circles, people, we're moving in circles.
So what's the big subject? Visioning my future. Have you ever done this? It's daunting. Though exciting at first. I wrote a 10-year vision, a lovely, romantic vision to be proud of. Then I realized, I might not want that vision. After all, if I did really, truly want that which I had written, I would have pursued it with great fervor and heart already. I might even be there by now. That I'm no longer even tangibly working for it (not really) tells me I don't want it (not really). Or have I fallen off the path? Have I gotten complacent, lazy, tired? This is what I've been thinking about for the last several days. I've also been trying to scale that vision down to a 3-year goal, which should be easier, but it's not.
When you write a vision - if you've never participated in such an activity - you're supposed to start with a list of things you've accomplished and are proud of. This is clearly to boost your ego before delving into the depths of uncertainty and darkness. Not one of us knows where we're going. I believe this may be one reason I never gave visioning or long range planning too much time. Don't get me wrong, I'm a dreamer and future oriented person (intangible what if's are a specialty of mine). But goals are different. And yes, stating them means owning them.
Let's start here, because it's a recurring theme and an obvious obstacle: In 3-years, I will be 40.
(The sound of pins dropping.)
OK, the second theme, which drives the first theme, is that I am a competitive person. And somewhere in my mind, I am not where I'm supposed to be at age 37, and I have no idea where I'm supposed to be at age 40, which means I'm probably not going to be there either. Which means I'm failing, or at least not winning. This is a crisis. It's mostly existential, but that doesn't make it weigh any less. Of course, my mother, while lying across my bed with me a couple nights ago, watching me pitifully licking my slightly fevered paws (there was fever) and listening as a good mother does, said to me, "everything is an existential crisis for you." This, actually, is soothing. It means this "problem" may not be any larger than any of the others. It might be smaller, much smaller.
This is why it's smaller:
A. Many, many, many people have turned 40 before me. It's what people do, if they have the chance.
B. I am a planner. My plan is and has always been to pursue the opportunities before me until they no longer serve me, and there have always, aways, always been opportunities. Can't put a name to it, can't assign a number, but it works for me.
C. It's possible this problem isn't really a problem and I'm simply trying very hard to be unhappy, due to a temporary bout of insanity. I'm calling for an immediate cease and desist.
D. I'm already on the rebound from C.
However, when one is in an extistential crisis, even a small one, and particularly if it involves elements out of our control (see note above about age) then we need something excellent to drink through it.
Robert Sinskey Vin Gris of Pinot Noir 2012
This wine has something of a cult following. Only very small quantities are made each vintage and the wine is allocated. I understand the state of Alabama gets only a few cases, a few bottles of which landed in my local wine store, The Wine Seller. Bravo.
I used to sell Robert's wines in New York. This is a wine I could sell without ever sampling a bottle, but by sending out an email to twenty of my top buyers. I would write orders totalling a hundred cases in a single morning. It's the best kind of sale. I once took some of those buyers out to Napa and Sonoma for a long weekend and our visit to Robert's place was a favorite for us all. His wife and chef, Maria, made a wonderful lunch after our tour and tasting.
Vin Gris is essentially another name for rosé wine. Made from 100% organically grown Pinot Noir grapes in Northern California, Robert Sinskey's Vin Gris is elegant yet easy, versatile yet distinguished, complex yet comforting. It's not cheap, but when you're contemplating your future, several years out, you need to take yourself seriously and drop a little more cash into the investment. $30 was never better spent.
Read more about this wine from Robert Sinskey himself (especially the POV) here. He's a bit of a renegade with a great deal of conviction. Exactly what you need when you're trying to find home.