On Being Right in the World

An R160B rolling stock working the E line waits in the terminal World Trade Center station in Lower Manhattan.

I do not think it is hokey to think about what kind of energy we project into the world.

No matter how smart you are, what clever ideas you bring to the table, or what accomplishments you've mastered — it's all about how you are in the world that counts.

I'm not talking about broadcasting a veneer of positivity. Even when you don't feel so great, you can still be mindful enough to not let your own feelings seep out and be destructive. I know from experience that never works.

That's why we have art. And stuff. And tragic movies. Or hitting a baseball. Or running until your chest hurts (I know. I don't do that too much.)

Frankly, for me, I'm just beginning to come up to the surface of the water to breathe. And the air does feel good. On my face. The taste of pepper on my scrambled eggs.

Can you tell I am trying to make a breakthrough? 

Being right in the world is something that I have probably been looking forever since I was thrown into this world (without my permission).

I know (and I think all of us know) what it means to feel not so right in this world. When my pencil breaks, the world becomes bleak. But when I make a connection to another person, whether across the desk (as a teacher), or with my best friend (as a friend), or in words (as a writer) — there is a satisfactory feeling.

I'm uncertain about what constitutes happiness. And I'll be the first to admit I am not sure if I am doing anything right. But that's the thing. The big secret is that no one knows if they are doing anything right.

And that's fine.

In fact, writing these words there is the potential that I may be saying it all wrong. But in saying it I throw it out there. Into the world. And it becomes kinetic.

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