Imaginary Friends

And How to Lose Them

May 10, 2024

I imagined someone asking me about life, an honest question from a momentarily open (albeit imaginary) individual. I had to imagine it because I am 45 years old and know nothing. I’ve accomplished nothing, so why would anyone ask? In fact, everything that I have has been given to me. I’ve never earned a single thing. I have no wisdom except what I have read about, and if I did have any, it would be ignored anyway. When is the last time someone you know actually changed their behavior or position based on well-received wisdom? It doesn’t happen. Each twenty-something repeats the errors of the forty-somethings, believing they know better. Speaking from experience, of course.

The reply to my imagined question was to have two or three things you are devoted to and fill your days with them. That’s it. Have a simple core and spend all your hours in it. If you find yourself away from it, turn around. Go back.

It seemed like good advice because the answer made my phone instantly irrelevant and made me think of my small circle.

It also made me acutely aware of how I’d spent my time that day, pressing me to do more with less, to make more from what I had, not complain, and be grateful that I was able to do what little I had done. If I filled my days with the activities of a few important, core things, then worry would be replaced with contentment - a huge win - and the increased connectedness to my core would be the best pillow, bed, and blanket one could have.

Fact:

the days of struggle usually come unexpectedly. One wakes up unable to get out of bed. A medical diagnosis. A family tragedy. Natural disaster.

Our lives get really simple when we are very ill, don’t they? When our stomachs are writhing with angst as we sit in a hospital room waiting on news, or the house is destroyed by a flood or fire? Life gets simple. Small.

Distractions drop their mask as they leave you alone.

The life that was filled with entertainments from an imaginary life is lost.

The quotes on our Instagram/Facebook feeds and the Hobby Lobby decor are equally useless in the face of real life, aren’t they? We once found it so easy to let a quote do the talking for us, but when we need the strength or answers we thought they held, they vanish like a windshield defrosting.

(As an aside, I think this is a main cause of the embittering of Americans against one another - we gave away our common core, our common story, for … what?)

When the music’s over and the party of like minds scatters, what philosophy will come to our rescue? Will we really think of our profile quotes? After the parade has passed and there are no more streamers, no jesters, bedazzled queens or podiumed athletic heroes for us to applaud and when Democrats and Republicans are revealed to be the same - what then?

We will need a clearly-defined core. That core needs to be simple, even if it changes over time.

My core is made of things I know I need - things I trust are true that I can reach for and attain:

EXERCISE - literally makes everything better. I’m not in good shape, but I want to be. So, I try.

WIFE - I want to spend more time with my wife.

STORY - something to feed the innerman - oil painting or writing or reading or thinking.

FAITH - Jesus of Nazareth is still alive. That changes everything.

These few things interlock to make facing whatever comes much easier.

Entertainment will not do this. Fixating on other people’s successes is an imaginary life.

Comfort will not do this. If you don’t think you need to change, you are wrong. : )

Distractions (like faith in or obsession with politics) will not do this.

As I continued walking up the street, my imaginary questioner morphed into thoughts of God and ice cream. I signed my taxes. I worried about money. I wished I could make my family proud, especially my wife. I considered all the water underground and its place in the world.