In the evening, I go to a body of water (a bay is preferable) and I sit, cross-legged, on its edge—as far out over the water as I can get. I take my notebook and a pen, and I write. I write from the moment I sit until there’s no light left to see the page. And then, if no one’s around to hear my voice crack, I’ll sing an Otis Redding song, too. It’s my favorite song. It’s the obvious one.
I’ll sit, and I’ll think about how all water is one water, how every sunset I’ve ever watched is part of the same rotation. I’ll look at the pretty colors.
Tonight, before going down to the bay, I checked my Facebook feed and saw a familiar face. Humans of New York had done a profile of Dr. Souwedaine, the neurosurgeon who in August 2012 saved my life. He’s fighting to cure some incurable type of tumor, and knowing him, the struggle must feel like torture. But knowing him, he’ll succeed.
Today is not an anniversary. Neither of my birth dates are May 18th. Three years, nine months, and seventeen days is not a significant number. But I’m sitting on the dock of the bay and crying because today, something clicked.
Lately I’ve been wrestling with fear—disorientation over a move, fallout from a business venture gone sour, anxiety toward starting a new venture, frustration with the difficulty of finding an agent for my book.
Fear is the brother of desire. We want something, want it so badly we measure our definition of success by it. Naturally, we fear that it cannot be done.
I have not overcome all my fears. But what I have done, in the past three years, nine months, and seventeen days, is live a life worth living. Falling in and out of love, crossing continents, finding friendship, making wine, learning French, and pursuing—perhaps even approaching—my most chimerical goals.
A life worth living. Perhaps that’s any life. The sunset over Grand Traverse Bay is beautiful tonight, and maybe any life that offers such sunsets is a life worth living. But a wise man once told me we should live the sort of life we’d want to see made into a movie, and I still believe him.
I don’t have my book on the shelves yet. I have my doubts, still, I have my fears. But three years, nine months, and seventeen days ago, I could have died, and thanks to Dr. Souwedaine and his team, I did not. So I’ll overcome those fears, and I’ll tear down whatever hurdles misfortune throws my way.
A life worth living. What a gift that is.
Beautiful.
Zack what a beautiful way to look at life! Best of luck with your ventures and book x
Saw your comment on HONY. This is absolutely beautifully written. It sounds like you have used your 3 years, 9 months, and 17 days to live life to its fullest, taking chances and not ever giving up. I’d say that doubts and fears are normal, and you’re living and pushing on despite them. xoxo
This is so beautiful. Don’t let fear stop you, let it guide you. God bless Dr. Souwedaine!
A life worth living is all you can ask for. Sometimes I question my own ability to create a life worth living for myself. Good luck, wherever life takes you my friend.
You write beautifully, Zack. You’ll find a way. Try, try and try again, watch what you did and correct (you must do it already to write the way you do).
You will get there.
You have a beautiful way of writing, and an incredible story. You have lived each day with a new appreciation for life for the past three years, nine months, and seventeen days. As a fellow writer and lover of the sea, please continue to write, to share, to sing, to pursue those God-given dreams. Thank you for sharing the picture as it quiets my soul and sends a little whisper of home to me. I’m from Michigan but living in Costa Rica for this year. The traveler’s path is full of change, but I am thankful that God has given you the life to experience it. Grace and peace to you, fellow dreamer.
Beautiful.. keep reaching for the moon because reading this… you’re already amongst the stars.
Thanks for sharing. Deb
I saw your comment on hony.Truly beautiful and inspirational words.wish you all the best!
I too came across your message on HONY and I was curious about the person who wrote so beautifully. I will look up at the stars from Austin, TX and whisper a positive thought your way. This stranger is proud of you and I look forward to reading your book some day. Godspeed Zack!
Not to sound creepy, but I saw your post on HONY and clicked on your picture and saw this. It’s so weird because, of all the places in the world, I live pretty close to Traverse City and have spent much time watching that same sunset, wondering if I’m living a life worth living. It sounds like you are. And hopefully I am, too.
Thank you for this post. You’re amazing and you’ll reach your goals because you deserve it and people need to read your words.
I’ll be praying for you to continue trying every day.
Micaela, from Argentina
Beautiful writing. Inspires me to do the same, and that is what writing is meant to do. Success and good luck to you.