Dear world I'm pleased to meet you.

So I’ve been in a kind of meditative place lately.

Some may prefer the term “brooding,” but to those I offer this distinction: brooding is what it is—stagnant, painful, and exhausting—and remains just that. On the other hand, spending time meditating on those things which would otherwise cause me to brood is often productive, positive, and can actually lead to, if not resolutions per se, at least ways forward. I used to brood. Not so much anymore.

So I’ve been in a kind of meditative place lately.

And I spent Saturday lying on a beach, which always helps.

I’ve found that a good place to start is to explore moments or situations that have caused me discomfort. Which is maybe why it seems hard at first—I mean, who wants to do that? But discovering the true causes of discomfort often reveals profound truth.

For instance.

Not long ago I was at a party that I would say was of the “hipster” persuasion (not the sex one, a different one). And while I love the people that I was hanging out with (and was having a genuinely good time), I just couldn’t get into the whole...scene. It was in a big open loft (of course) that served some other daytime purpose. There were kegs. There were lots of sweaty bodies. There was a marching band. There was rapture and euphoria.

I did not feel euphoric.

It’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the elaborate and unexpected performance happening before my eyes—I totally did! Last time I watched a marching band I was in high school, and I can’t say I ever expected to watch one again—let alone that it would be rapturous party entertainment. But standing there in that crowded loft, dripping with sweat and beer, I experienced something profound. And it was not inspiration. Nor the transcendence that seemed to be happening all around me.

Nope. It was the realization of the fact that I was...over it.

Oh sure, that realization first took the form of annoyance, and even judgment:

Look at these emotionally stunted children! And I’m one of them! How pathetic: a room full of thirty-somethings who were so not cool in their actual youths that they have to re-create them now, decades later!

And further:

Ew! Suddenly I have a new-found...respect for all those frat boys/sorority girls I had the gall to look down on all those years ago. I mean, they did all this shit years ago! Created ideologies, surrounded themselves with likeminded peers, had awkward sex and threw raging keggers... Can it be they were the mature ones? Further along in their own development? Ahead of their time?

Ha.

But of course, nothing is that cut and dry. And in the end, the profound realization comes in the form of acceptance of the fact that I am simply no longer there. That is no longer my euphoria. I’m glad that it is for so many others; I’m glad that so many continue to find acceptance, and to find their voices. Because that’s what it’s really all about, isn’t it? I’m just not going to get as much out of it as they are. And that’s ok.

Anyway, it’s clear that I need to make some changes in my life. And it’s becoming clearer what those changes are. And really, they’re nothing drastic. Just little tweaks here and there; shifts in levels of priority, placement of emphasis.

Did I mention I’ve been in a kind of meditative place lately?