We keep telling ourselves that we’ll start writing again when we get a minute. But when that minute comes we find ourselves catching up on our stories. Why? What did we ever do to ourselves that we must show such disdain for our own intentions? Or are we deluding ourselves? Is it more comfortable to keep our aspirations at dream’s length? And, if so, why do we allow them to torment and frustrate us? If we know in our heart of hearts that the pleasure is in the dreaming, not the implementation, then it is a more honest and fulfilling course to let dreams be dreams. There’s no need to fret and worry over whether they are ever to come true, as the fruit of our enjoyment would rot on the vine if they did. So the most intelligent course of action is to stop aspiring, and enjoy the dream.
But we know it’s not that simple. We know that if it were we would have done it long ago. We aspire because we must. And we avoid because we secretly believe the dog chasing cars wouldn’t know what to do if he caught one. But if we’re cognizant enough to know this, then we also immediately concede that it’s not true. The dog isn’t chasing cars to catch them, he’s actually chasing them away. He knows this. Not in the modern sense of knowledge, but he knows it in his bones which is generally how dogs know things. And we know that he knows this because he doesn’t chase yours into the driveway when you come home. If he did, he would catch that one every damn time. No. The cars could just as easily be anything else infringing on his territory, i.e. the order of his world. In post-modern terms he fears the cat will use his zen garden as a litter box. And you know cats; he’s absolutely right. We’ve been over thinking it. Your dog’s mission is simply to chase; an activity that, when performed properly, results in the recipient’s exit from the vicinity. Your dog, as it turns out, gets shit done.
Your dog has a mission. And he’s a dog. On the whole, by human standards at least, they’re pretty stupid. When I was a child we had a German Shepard whose relative dog intelligence was so revered that it has worked its way into family legend for accomplishing in midlife things that most human children figure out before age 2.

So what’s your mission? Is your yard being protected? And what’s that mail carrier up to? Sorry. Wrong blog. How do you define success? Not the ephemeral idea of success made so popular by the 1980s, forget that. Nobody succeeds at life. We all lose. It’s fine. Move past that. Define a mission and then succeed at it. That’s the only success you get. When you succeed at a nominally tangible goal. I succeeded at exercising this morning. I succeeded at not stuffing my face hole with salty cheese at lunch. When I felt rudderless earlier today I succeeded at meditating for 20 minutes without glancing at a clock. Soon I will succeed at having fleshed out this scrap of a concept that has been on my mind. Then I’ll post it. Assuming there are no server issues, this too shall be a success. Even when no one reads it. I can’t make you read it, and I will not waste time on social media games to try to trick you into it. Goals with such glaring variables are better suited to sabotage, not production.

So what’s your mission? How will you succeed today?