Excitement

Image-gen with Nightcafe

“What’s the excitement?”, Rega asked me when we met after four years.

“I don’t look for excitement any longer”, I heard myself telling her. Rega asks questions that elicit deep truths. This one emerged without effort, like a thought bubble rising to the surface.

I saw surprise on Rega’s face, but much of my attention was directed within, toward a soft glow that spread as slow and easy as honey on a hot buttered toast, delicious and comforting.

“Really?”

Yes, I explored my being. I look for contentment, for lasting joy.

We talked. I find it in long walks on the beach, the waking world turning from dim grey to a lit gold shimmering on the surf that fringes the shallow waves. In the cobwebs of an autumn forest, oak leaves turning dark on the forest floor.

I find it in humanity, in little Priya, who giggles her way to me, her tiny hand reaching out to be shaken. Shaken hard enough for a wave of movement to snake up to her armpit, so she can convulse in mock pain and genuine, toothless joy.

In relationships that emerge from deep engagement. For a few minutes, like this meeting with Rega, or over years and decades of traveling trails with family and old friends.

And more recently, I told her, with young entrepreneurs from whom I have learned so much. I can’t teach you anything about your business you don’t know, I told one entrepreneur who asked me what I could contribute. But I can do something you can’t - I can see you.

See them, not with a sense of critique or judgement, but with respect and appreciation. And love. And an honest, hard search for answers to questions they ask me. Not all answers rise easily to the surface. When they involve organisations and people, and complex, dynamic relationships, the questioning must be careful, the considerations many. Together, we will still go wrong - often. But we will bond. Journeys are shared in both travail and triumph. The years pass, youth turns to maturity and self-assured leadership. Now, I can watch from the sidelines. Cheer, even.

And find the quiet joy that is the best reward of life.

And excitement? Maybe it’s an age thing, but it doesn’t seem important. This may just be semantics, the way in which we define a word. For me ‘excitement’ has the sense of the temporary, the flicker of a needle into a zone that cannot be sustained. You can get addicted to it, then it’s never enough. Or, you can ride the high of shooting down the rapids in a kayak; then, find yourself in a broad channel of water, regard the forests on the river bank, watch the colours shift in the water, lie back and admire the clouds.

And if you’re lucky, smile at your companion, as you let the river carry you along.