The sun has risen on a new day in my life, and with it, the reshaping of so many bygone narratives of who I am, can, and want to be.

One of the most challenging pieces of the last decade for me has been countering the looming, overwhelming feelings of boredom, stagnation, and petty frustration that stem from life’s daily routines inside and outside of the workplace. When I started working full-time in 2014, I met a man named Damon. Damon was in his early 30’s, gave little attention to his appearance, and spoke in a manner I can only describe as Italics: lazy, slouched, uninspired. The words he spoke didn’t seem important to him, as if he himself did not care whether or not you heard them. He tried just hard enough at his job to never be in trouble, conversed with others infrequently, and rarely, if ever, contributed more than was being asked of him. He always showed up on time and left as soon as he was able. I of course never saw him leave, but right on queue each day that chair was empty as soon as it could be. I occasionally would see it still moving from his departure. He could have stopped showing up entirely and it would have taken at least a month before anyone noticed. Don’t get me wrong here. Damon was not a bad person by any means, but the most interesting thing about him to me was how completely unremarkable he was.

As luck would have it, I ran into Damon in the elevator one day as we both were leaving. We had the same short elevator conversation I’ve had thousands of times over the years before heading out to the dimly-lit parking lot. It was shortly after the clocks had rolled back, and the sun had set on the day. The weather was noticeably warm for how late in the year it was. Damon’s shirt was an exceptionally hueless flannel, as if the colors had simply melted off over time. We talked about music and how we both played instruments, him bass guitar and myself drums, and carried on about what few things a 30-something and a 22-year old can. Typically you’d say goodbye when one of you reached your car, but Damon and I kept talking. And normally this conversation would wash away with the others in my sea of thoughts, but one thing stands out to me: Damon was noticeably anxious about how he was perceived. He was in a band but had little to say about the quality of music they put out, he listened to lots of different music but characterized it as “nothing too weird.” I couldn’t help but to feel that Damon had been reprimanded, or worse, hurt, for stepping outside the boundaries of what was considered normal within the environment he was raised in. I’ve looked back on this conversation many times over the years, wondering where Damon is now and how that same conversation would play out today, 10 years later. It’s worth pondering how many Damons there are in the world, or how often we play the role of Damon in other’s lives.

I think a lot about what people find important in their lives. If you had asked me in 2016 about what is important to me, I’d have rattled off some nonsense about purpose, and how uncovering it through these self-inflicted convolutions was inherently meaningful, and that beneath every interaction lurked a deeper meaning that could only be unearthed by those as discerning as myself. Yuck! At least looking back and cringing means you’ve grown as a person, or so they say.

I tap a lot of meaning in my life these days from being observant, appreciating what is in front of me, being present, listening intently to what others have to say, following up, and not displacing those I love from the places in which they find joy. These are the things that are important to me today, that makes an impact right now, on those who are close to me. These places of meaning never hold up of course: time will wither them away as our values and ecosystems we derive them from grow and evolve, and they’ll reshape themselves into something better. I’ll look back on this paragraph and, much like the one that came before it, cringe and laugh at how I could say something so misguided. And to that I can only say hello to my future self. I’ll be there soon.

I have recently felt a feeling of connectedness and completeness that has been noticeably absent from my life post-college. I have a new job with new opportunities, new faces, new scenery, new walks, a new drive, and am waking up with the renewed energy I had lost over time. This rejuvenation will of course be fleeting, but the lift of a new environment can’t be overstated. I feel like myself again, more so than ever before.