For the past few months, I've had this itchy, burning desire to just fade away. At first I was scared to talk about it, or to say out loud, "I want to fade away," because it sounds, well, suicidal. "Do I want to commit suicide?" I asked myself. The word didn't fit the feeling, but the feeling scared me enough to sit with the question. So what is this feeling? Do I quit law school? Do I want to quit trying to have "the life" and "the career" I want? A law professor would say, "It depends."
Frankly, I was tired. Of what, though? Tired of trying. Whatever I'm trying to accomplish should not be this damn hard. But all the motivational speakers say I must keep going, that I must lose sleep to chase my dreams, that I need to work tirelessly now so I can rest later. Man, bump that. It shouldn't be this hard.
Speaking to God on this mountaintop, He told me, "It's not that hard when you are doing what you are designed to do."
"Oh, so you're saying I'm trying to put a square into a circle and wondering why it doesn't fit?"
"Oh, true."
For years I had been looking outward for an identity, trying to match the external world to what was inside of me. I fantasized about arguing cases like Thurgood Marshall or becoming a politician like Barack Obama, and over time I realized that I, James Rodgers, can never be one of them. Some people are designed to litigate cases, found startups, become teachers, actors. I realized I wanted to fade away because I was tired of trying to identify as a lawyer: needing to write, think, sound, and behave like one. But I don't believe God sent any of us here to spend our lives performing an identity. Our lives should be spent recognizing and acknowledging what is on the inside, then using our skills and talents to create and outwardly manifest it.
I see now that I failed myself. My failure was not that I didn't try hard enough. It was being so disconnected from self that I attempted to become something I'm not, or don't really want to be. Ego and vanity will say that's a lie. But in "conducting a thorough analysis of my life" on this here mountain, I know the truth.
That burning desire to fade away wasn't a suicidal thought. It was my spirit bound and locked in a box of identifying, of trying to be. It was screaming, "James, let me THE **** outta here. So we, mind, body, and spirit, can walk and live together in harmony and truth." I was being called to the wild, called to nature, to this experience, so God could have a moment with me, reveal the truth, and give me my marching orders to move forward.
What's harmony and what's truth? It's this, right here and right now. It's what you have been reading. It's me sharing this story in hopes of inspiring you to take the journey to find your true self, to heal, to forgive, and to let your little light shine.
I'm concerned that many of my peers are suffering from this same problem, too caught up in the land of the lotus eaters. So much so that at fifty they'll be like our parents, going through midlife crises that could have been prevented if they had not ignored and suppressed the self until it was too late.