We’re going on a lion hunt, 
We’re not afraid! 
Got my canteen by my side, 
And my binoculars too.

— American Children’s Song

Our physical lives are journeys.  We know how they begin.  We know how they will end. It is our job to fill in the middle.

Sadly, many of us don’t do such a great job of filling. We get by. We drift along. We muddle through. And before we know it, some serious time has passed us by.

The cure for muddling is the hero’s journey.

From the beginning of recorded time, through the Greek and Roman epics, to the present day, art and music and literature have memorialized the fundamental necessity of the hero’s journey to the fullness of our humanity.

Joseph Campbell, in his seminal masterpiece The Hero With A Thousand Faces, summarized the hero’s journey like this:  “A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.”

All of us are called to the hero’s journey.

But it’s not conducted on the couch.

To figure out what life is really all about, you need to venture forth, see the world, get slapped upside the head, test your meddle, travel the edge, engage the battle, come back victorious. Then you will know a thing or two.  Then you can be of service to the world.

This requires effort.  This requires that you do something.

This requires a desire to know your heart.

This requires that you set out and seek your dreams.

“To realize one’s Personal Legend [your blessing, your path, your dream] is a person’s only obligation,” Paulo Coelho writes in his enduring story The Alchemist. “And when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it.”

All of us have hearts that yearn. All of us have souls that seek. All of us are called to quest. The restlessness that resides within us is part of our DNA.

But, here’s the problem: a lot of folks ignore (or refuse) the invitation to take the hero’s journey. They’d rather stay home. They’d rather stay safe, sound, and secure. They’d rather not risk. They’d rather not dare.

They were told at a tender age not to venture out, that the quest was impossible, that their dreams were not practical, that they could not succeed.

Fear may hold them back as well: Fear of failure, fear of suffering, fear of defeat.

Perhaps fear of success too. Success might require moving beyond a comfort zone, out of a job, a home, a relationship, into the unknown, into scary places, into places that confront and challenge in unexpected ways.

There’s also that pseudo sense of duty: folks tell themselves that they have “responsibilities.”  They say, “I can’t go now. Maybe someday.” This “version” of duty is camouflage for fear.

So quest we must. We cannot hide. To live lives that matter, we must venture forth. We must seek out the places that scare us. We must risk. We must dare. We must know sadness and grief. We must experience ecstasy and joy. We must taste victory. We must know defeat.

Coelho writes that when we have the courage to travel the intricate path of our Personal Legend, when “we learn to trust our hearts, read the seemingly inconspicuous signs, and understand that as we look to fulfill a dream, it looks to find us just the same, if we let it.”

It is only in the journey that we find our dreams.

In every moment, the power to choose is ours alone.

This probably doesn’t surprise you. I have always been intrigued by the question: “Where does the white go when the snow melts?”

Kind of like the question: “Where is yesterday?”

I celebrate my birthday this week. There are more than a few yesterdays. But they’re all gone.

Today is all there is.

What will we do with today?

It is easy to muddle through, get by, hang in there.  It is easy to do the same thing day after day.  It is hard to constantly level up, play full out, live like there’s no tomorrow. (Because there might not be.)

How ephemeral a day. One melding into another until they are a kaleidoscope of indistinguishable memories.

What happens is this: We are constantly barraged by both the urgent and the important. The urgent screams loudest; we give it its due. But when the day is done, the important has been left by the curb.

We are inundated by emails and voicemails and faxes and Facebook and Twitter. We are driven by other people’s emergencies; the agendas of others rather than our own. We are directed from without rather than from within.

And another day passes us by.

There is such a tendency to sacrifice ourselves on the altar of other people’s demands; to sacrifice our own hopes and dreams for the hopes and dreams of others. It is in the name of selflessness, service and social responsibility. It is noble, we are told.

I say it’s not.

We cannot serve when we are broken and depleted. We cannot help when we are empty. We give our best to the world only when we are whole and happy and filled with joy.

When we choose in favor of what brings us joy, we bring our highest and best selves to the world. Our gifts shine brightly. Everyone is enriched. Everyone wins.

To do this requires exactly that: that we choose.  Hard choices sometimes. Unpopular ones. (But, default means another day bites the dust.)

The mission: to choose what changes up the game in our lives such that we live with courage and audacity and brilliance. The challenge, every day, to choose what is mighty, what is important, what makes a difference.

The challenge, in every moment, to burn with passion. And live with joy.

To choose well.

Will you do this today? Before it’s yesterday?

Photo © 2008 Tim Perdue

Headaches? Hypertension? Loss of appetite? Sexual atrophy? Anxiety? Sadness? Frustration? Erectile dysfunction?

You may be suffering from VCS.  Yes, Vacuum Cleaner Syndrome.

You know when you have VCS when you’re in a situation and suddenly realize that “it just sucks.”

No need to ask your doctor about it. Most of them are clueless.

Usually, there’s no explanation for VCS.

Sometimes things, or entire days, just suck.

I learned this lesson long ago as a distance runner. I’d go out for a 10 mile run and feel great. Two days later, I’d go out for a 5 mile trot, and it would suck. A day later, it would all flow again.

No rhyme. No reason. Just as quickly as it came on, VCS would dissipate.

But I seem to need to remind myself of this lesson over and over again: every occurrence of VCS is not an emergency, it’s not a disaster.

Last week, I hit a road block in my writing. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t write my way through. I began to tell myself that I was a horrible writer, that everything that I had ever written was terrible, that I would never write anything worthwhile ever again, that I would be devoid of inspiration forever more.

The next morning, I finished the chapter in about 10 minutes.

It was just VCS.

Who knows why certain efforts suck. The legendary Jim Rohn would have said that they’re simply a mystery of the mind. They just are.

Here’s the scoop. Our only job is to show up. Every day. No matter what. Just show up.

George Leonard once wrote, “The master is the one who stays on the path day after day, year after year. The master is one who is willing to try and fail, and try again, for as long as he or she lives.”

We cannot wait for the muse. We cannot wait for inspiration. We cannot wait for the day that we “feel” like exercising, running, writing, painting or doing what needs to be done. We just need to do it. Whether it sucks or not.

When we show up every day and do the work, even when it sucks, remarkable things happen. Books get written, art gets made, careers take off, relationships are deepened.

We don’t see it when our faces are in it. Some days,  all that we can see is that it sucks. But when we gaze back over a horizon of time, we can see that, just by the act of showing up, we have created a masterpiece.

So next time you suffer from VCS, consider FAI: forgetaboutit. Tomorrow will be better.