“Trials never end, of course. Unhappiness and misfortune are bound to occur as long as people live, but there is a feeling now, that was not here before, and is not just on the surface of things, but penetrates all the way through: We’ve won it. It’s going to get better now. You can sort of tell these things.” ~Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

You know more than half a year later I after reading the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, I still find myself puzzling over the words. At one level, I know I have made it, things are better now. Things are better for me relatively speaking compared to many others. Yet, life just seems like one trial after another. Things get better on paper but it never feels that way.

Now the medical people, often with dollar signs in their heads say it’s depression. Or some kind of mental health diagnosis. I think it’s just life, being careful and realistic today in an effort to prepare for all common risks and build for a better tomorrow. But some people say I’m not taking into consideration the cost of time and delay, how I’m getting older every minute I write this – but I also know good things come to those who wait. Or am I just avoiding my future, as I’m too afraid of the unknown and pushy salespeople?

There is a lot there is unknown out there in the world. Unknown unknowns are particularly big risks. And life is tough these days, though much of that is of my own making, as I choose to lie with less today for a better tomorrow. I could certainly afford to live somewhere nicer, drive to work, keep the heat above 50 degrees, travel more, to do more things. I could own more stuff, take more old junk to the dump. But I’m trying to save and invest whoever I can.

Things are better now. I have won it, I am doing good work in a job I truly love. I am delivering results for clients and I’m well compensated for it even though it doesn’t necessarily feel that way with inflation and all my saving and investing. But the numbers look good, and if I can stick through it until age 55, then I can retire to that off-grid homestead, where I will still work but it won’t be the same kind of working in city, saving every penny for a better tomorrow. But at times, it certainly doesn’t feel like I won it, coming home from my professional job on a creaky old city bus in the dark to a cold apartment that is literally falling apartment, with a broken refrigerator among many other deficiencies.