Many people measure their success by their bank balances, their dividend checks, what’s parked in their driveways, the size of their homes or how many people know their names. That ain’t me. I am both simpler and more complicated than that.
I want peace and some level of financial security. I want time and space to do the things I love. I want to finish projects I have already started. I want to try new things and see new places.
Success means having time to devote to the things that matter to me. It means having a cup of hot tea and reading or writing. It means having a good laugh over a cup of coffee. It means knowing that there’s a meal and a warm bed waiting for me at the end of the day. It means getting up the next day and trying a new life experiment to see what happens next.
I love the adventurous what-ifs and why-nots, but the whys and what-ifs of a precarious existence are a nightmare.
Are there material things that I would like to have? Certainly. Lots. Oodles. But that’s not the main thrust of my life or who I want to be. And none of those things would guarantee happiness of any depth or longevity.
If I am not making the world better, even for just one other person, what is the point of me? If I spend my life chasing money and things at the expense of living my life to the fullest, what is the point of life?
I’m carrying the triple burden of age, disability, and debt. The debt is fixable. With surgeries, my disability might be fixable. My age just is what it is. Things are hard right now. Any kind of success seems far away.
On the other hand, if you read this and it stirred something in you that made you take a different route home just to see something new, I guess I am a success.
The Mia Experiment 