Choosing what’s best long term

After witnessing a particularly frustrating government press conference in my corner of the world, I set out this week to write about the difference between freedom of expression and bald head lies. Now, a few days later, my temper has cooled and it seems wiser to devote more than just a few hours on a Sunday morning to a centuries old debate like that of free speech. That’s a topic better suited to an Ethics term paper. I’m grateful I had time to rethink. And that I was still able to work in my joke.

It’s important I also consider the future’s version of myself each Sunday morning when I sit down to write. Some ideas feel too important to hash out haphazardly alongside a bagel and a cup of coffee. There’s high probability provocative angles could be missed or nuanced truths would be reduced to something far too definitive when my minute to minute emotions run the show. It can feel so good to type out a biting insult with just the right amount of word play aimed at the weeks events, but if the idea isn’t long lasting I know I’ll regret it down the road. I wish I had said…

It’s a mystifying balance for me, between living in the present moment and setting myself up for a healthy, happy future. I think I struggle to draw the line because I can always argue both sides. On the one hand, I f*cking love a bowl of ice cream in the evening. (Well anytime really, but after dinner is most common. I only go for the real stuff, high in fat with all the lactose and plenty of sugar-filled mix-ins.) On the other, I prefer my shorts zip all the way up when I dig them out each summer. I know there are other physiological reasons I shouldn’t indulge in a nightly bowl of ice cream, but feeling chubby is salient. The case against the ice cream is obvious—my body is a temple—but the case for it can be more compelling once the tub’s out on the counter. I guess the real struggle is moderation. How do I know when it’s best to pass on ice cream without swearing it off altogether? I know it can’t be every night, but why shouldn’t it be this one? Do you see what I am saying? What if I walk out my door tomorrow and get hit by a bus and the last thing I did was deny myself the pleasure of a bowl of cherry vanilla while I watch the sunset?

So I try to find pleasure in less—to enjoy the sunsets without the ice cream. I try to find peace in patience—to trust that sanity will be restored to our country without my two cents thrown into the cacophony. I do what I can in my community, and let go of what is beyond my reach. I try to unabashedly love what I have and to remember that even the simplest life still allows for surprises.