It was a fine September Saturday morning, the kind of day that deceptively teases a longer life for summer, while the truth is oncoming winter with all its misery.
Johann felt peaceful, he was day dreaming, giving his mind a break from poisons and terror. Tom popped into his head.
Tom was a guy who ripped through life on his terms and at his speed. He didn't drink, he didn't smoke, religion guided his every thought. He exercised relentlessly - running, hiking, climbing mountains - the man was in shape.
He was intense and quite disciplined, but he had a sense of humor. A sly, sneaky, delicious sense of humor.
Cancer killed him at the age of 70. For no particular reason. The man did everything right, he improved the world through the sheer force of his personality and his goodness, and cancer killed him anyway. He should have lived to be 97.
Johann compared his life to Tom's and came up short. Embarrassingly short. He did nothing, accomplished nothing, controlled nothing, achieved nothing. He was less than. The only attribute he ever perfected was whining. That, and wasting time. At these, he excelled.
He began to feel morose. He was much closer to death than he would have liked. The major drawback to whining and wasting time is that time itself is relentless. It doesn't stop, it doesn't wait, it doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath and change direction.
As Johann began to feel sorry for himself, to wallow in self-pity, inventing hollow excuses, it suddenly occurred to him that Tom's story was as inspirational as it was sad. Johann still had time. He could do, he could move, he could re-invent. With just a little of Tom's focus in his mind, Johann could change his life.
He was energized. He got up, shook off the wallowing, and started to consider options, determined to change his life in ways that would deliver him to pride and peace.
That's how you win the game.
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