Don't Worry, It'll Grow Back

Like most of you, I’ve had my share of misfortune. But, after some deep self-examination, it is apparent that what I call “misfortune” is more accurately described as “the result of horrendous judgment.” Because we all have an immense amount of control over—if not our lives—at least our response or reaction to life as it comes our way.

A few years ago, after reading a fine anthology of essays by bestselling author Randy Wayne White called Last Flight Out: True Tales of Adventure, Travel, and Fishing, it occurred to me that the essays I regularly write could be fashioned into a similar anthology. Writing column-length non-fiction is something I’ve done a lot of, and the art form comes easily to me as a result. So, after a number of years standing behind a barber’s chair, I put together the anthology I titled, "Don't Worry...It'll Grow Back".

I know, it’s a catchy title and that was my goal when I chose it. But something interesting happened as I began to compile the stories I wanted to include in the book.

These transparent glimpses into my “misfortunes” and also my triumphs began to unfold as small pieces of a larger puzzle, stepping stones I had used to hop upon as I crossed the river of life. Okay, that’s probably way too artsy for this light reading, but it is an accurate metaphor. Furthermore, as I wrote and re-wrote these essays, I realized that each of them, while frequently highlighting one or more of my human frailties, tended to wrap themselves in optimism for the future.

And it got me thinking (which is pretty cool; if you haven’t done it in a while, I encourage you to give it a go).

To me, there is an ebb and flow to this thing we call life. I wholeheartedly embrace the scientific and chemical nature of we human beings as a part of a much larger universe in which we are all somehow interconnected with the whole (Don’t. Just don’t). Many people over the millennia have chosen to put a spiritual or religious gloss on it, and that’s their choice. I personally don’t think it’s necessary to go to such extremes to define the magnificent simplicity of it all. To me, the electromagnetic wave that unites the celestial bodies into perfect equilibrium around the Sun is the same impulse that flows through us and is emitted by us; a never-ending energy field that both attracts and repels.

Whew; okay, enough of that.

What I’m getting at is this: just as there exists a literal cycle to the solar system, there are much smaller cycles in our own lives that we, as imperfect individuals with imperfect agendum and imperfect judgment, frequently fail to either grasp or accept.

A few great souls with vision have, from time to time, shown us all a far-distant future. Because of that, we as a species have made great strides in technology and science and should have a greater understanding of our life on this planet. That said, it appears as if the much more important journey inside ourselves has been relegated to a secondary, less-important status. As a result, our sense of vision seems to have contracted.

I like to think that our forefathers, while fairly concerned with the task of survival and all that conjures, also spent time considering the what-ifs. Imagining how their actions and in-actions would impact society in a hundred, or a thousand years.

Today, in the midst of a daily grind while under assault by a fire hose of information and data (much of which is trivial at best, harmful at worst), not so many of us are thinking far beyond today, or this week. In the current election cycle, some are worried about life in the next four or eight years. They are convinced that the entirety of human existence as we know it hinges on who next occupies the White House.

But, except for a few who are concerned about climate change and its effects, I don’t know of anyone who is deliberating over how life will be two-hundred years from now.

Because we just don’t care. We don’t think about planting trees, the shade of which we ourselves will never enjoy. We say we are concerned about how life will be for our children or our grandchildren, but it doesn’t go any further than that for most of us. We tend to be arrogant enough to believe that what we do today will have an impact of such magnitude as to linger for centuries after we’re dead and buried.

And yet we rarely get past what’s for dinner and who’s playing who this Sunday.

I didn’t watch last night’s debate and, as of this moment, I’ve no idea what, if any, game-changing utterances were raised. My guess is none. To me, it’s merely show for an entertainment-addicted populace that has been conditioned to taking sides in a purposefully-divided nation.

Eventually, one of these undesirables will be “elected.” Half of us (probably more than half of us) will be disappointed. Many will allow the power of the media to drive them to wild, catastrophic prognostications about the future, which is kind of ironic, given our severely abbreviated vision and tempered reason.

But I think it’s important to remember that this kind of thing has been going on for a long time, and that, while life may not be exactly the way we would all like it to be at the moment, that status is not carved in stone. I realize that understanding provides little comfort to those of us acutely aware of the brevity of our own lives.

The older I get, the less I let little things bother me. Big things, too. Okay, some things still bother me, a little. Experience has taught me that what I used to think of as a major life-changing act or event frequently didn’t result in much more than a ripple on the pond.

In fact, the way I reacted or behaved over the years has caused most of my problems, which triggered frequently-crippling regret.

Which is kind of stupid, now that I think about it.

Yesterday, I shaved my head. If I ultimately decide I don’t like it, I’ll take comfort in one reality: Don’t worry, it’ll grow back.