i don’t know what i’m doing with my life. i know how i want to live my life, regardless of what i do, because for me, life isn’t about the what. life is lived in the how. at the end of each day i recount how i spent each hour. no matter what occupied my time and attention, i assess how i’ve lived those hours: was i kind? was i loving? was i peaceful? yesterday i wasn’t. at least not in the last hour, which was the hour that mattered, because i was triggered in the usual way with the usual person in the usual situation when i usually lose my kind, loving, peaceful attitude. i went to bed several hours earlier than usual in order to escape my self-judgment at having failed, again, in the same way. i woke at 4am, thinking about yesterday, looking for alternatives to my behavior, hoping that i can change how i approach my purpose and intention in that situation. but the healthy, mature, responsible segment of mental chatter quickly devolved into complaining. i complained about things that weren’t true and things that are true and my reluctance to discern the difference. i complained about not knowing what to do with my life, when long ago i decided that what i do with my life means less to me than how i do whatever i choose. i could move halfway across the country, buy a house, get a dog, have a kid (which would be more different from my current life than moving to tibet and joining a monastery), and the what of my life still wouldn’t matter as much to me as how i live my life, wouldn’t matter to me if i wasn’t practicing kindness, love, and peace. i don’t know what to do with my life any better than the slacker pothead standing in front of the ice cream freezer at the grocery store, but i know how i want to do it. i begin again today. i take a deep breath. i soften the voice inside my head. i speak kindly, lovingly, and peacefully to me. i intend to speak only kindly, lovingly, and peacefully with you.