The Thinker.

"I've had an incredible life––I'd love to do it again."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 December 14, 2022 | [Read Online]( The Thinker. "I've had an incredible life––I'd love to do it again." Cole Schafer December 14, 2022 [fb]( [tw]( [in]( [email](mailto:?subject=Post%20from%20Sticky%20Notes&body=The%20Thinker.%3A%20%22I%27ve%20had%20an%20incredible%20life%E2%80%93%E2%80%93I%27d%20love%20to%20do%20it%20again.%22%0A%0Ahttps%3A%2F%2Fwww.getthesticky.com%2Fp%2Fthe-thinker) The Previews... There are 136 students currently enrolled in [Meet Cute](, most of whom seem to be loving every word of it. Written by myself and illustrated by an AI's interpretation of Roy Lichtenstein, Meet Cute is a creative writing guide designed to help you (and your readers) fall in love with the craft of writing. You can (and should) enroll [here](. The Movies... We're closing in on another 365 days on this gigantic space rock, which I always feel warrants a bit of reflection. Not so much reflection that we lose ourselves entirely in thought––too much thought has a way of stripping away the passion of living––but just enough reflection to stand still for a half-breath or two, take note of our surroundings and make sure we're still living, working and existing in a manner that we are proud of. Before we embark on this reflection, take a moment to imagine yourself on a long run. You're bounding through the forest, stepping over exposed roots in the ground that look like coiling serpents and ducking under the occasional low-hanging branch. As your legs begin to tire, you conveniently arrive at a clearing painted a golden yellow from sunlight that has made its way through the branches and settled on the forest floor. The Japanese have a beautiful word for this phenomenon that, as far as I know, has no English translation: Komorebi means sunlight streaming through the trees. You catch your breath in the clearing, tilting your face towards the trees, allowing the Komorebi poking through to warm your closed eyes, nose, lips and cheekbones. In the midst of this warming, your ears perk at the sound of a faint babble; a faint babble that you follow around a tangled blackberry bush big enough to consume a school bus until you nearly fall into a hidden brook. You kneel down, cup your hands and take several gracious pulls from the water, leaving behind tiny ripples with each ladle––quenched, you watch as the water settles still, and in its reflective face, you see your own. You decide to take a moment to reflect. Note. I can't tell you how to go about your own reflection. Self-reflection doesn't come with an instruction manual. There are countless ways to reflect and all that matters is that you take the time to do it. The gift in reflection isn't so much the insights pulled from the reflection but instead becoming the kind of person that is reflective. With that said, here's how I go about my own self-reflection... I look at my life over the past year through two contrasting lenses: Life and Work. I then grab my pen and write down what I see. What you're about to read is what I see. Let's begin with life. Life. I'm happier than I've ever been. I believe this is because I've come to the realization that happiness is a part-time (if not a full-time) job that we must clock into every single day. For a long time, I romanticized the life of the tortured artist. My first two collections of poetry and prose––[One Minute, Please?]( and [After Her](––are littered with self-destruction, melancholy, heartbreak and so much mention of Klonopin that I get high just thumbing through their pages. I spent most of my early twenties chasing Hemingway and without realizing it, I made his prose––lines like, "There is nothing to writing, all you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed"––the philosophy I lived by. However, upon eventually arriving at the conclusion that I'm probably not talented enough to be the next Ernest Hemingway, I decided that if I couldn't outwrite him, I could, at the very least, be happier than him. I don't admire Hemingway like I used to. While he was a sensational talent whose work is truly a gift to the human race, I've expanded my view of what I consider greatness to be. Greatness without goodness is not greatness. Hemingway was a great writer but he was also married to four different women, each of which he cheated on with the previous. There's nothing wrong with longing to be an aspect of someone––I formed an LLC this year called Chasing Hemingway––but we must treat our idols like pies that we can slice away individual pieces from, without consuming them in their entirety. But, back to happiness. When I realized just how miserable I was a couple of years back, I thought about how much time I was investing in working on my happiness. I was investing time in my work and my body and my friendships, but I was investing very little time in my happiness. Happiness isn't handed to us. In fact, I'd argue that we are genetically predisposed to be unhappy. If we were constantly satisfied, we would never want more; and if we never wanted more, there would be no such thing as human progress, ingenuity, creativity and innovation. So, in a way, we should be thankful for the moments that we are unhappy––because they are fertile grounds for creating something new––without falling victim to the thinking that unhappiness is a required ingredient for creation. Yes, great writing can be typed whilst bleeding; but, it can be typed whilst smiling, too. I've managed to keep my melancholy at bay by discovering the activities that make me happy and carving out time for them on a regular basis. These activities include spending time with Kace, reading, writing, cooking, drinking (in moderation), traveling, going out to dinner with friends, boxing, running, lifting, sweating of any kind, sitting down across from my therapist for an hour, watching sensationally good television (Peaky Blinders, Yellowstone, White Lotus, etc) and, perhaps most importantly, finding tremendous joy and appreciation in the little things that I can experience each and every day (like the morning's first cup of coffee). Please recognize that this isn't me undermining mental illness. I'm simply saying that we can't spend 50+ hours per week on our careers and 0 hours per week on our happiness and expect to not be unhappy. Happiness aside, there are aspects of myself that I want to keep improving upon in the year to come. Firstly, I will pay greater attention to what I put into my body. I suffer from Eczema, a condition that weakens the skin barrier causing rashes to form. It was one of the worst years I've ever had with Eczema and I believe it has much to do with what I've been putting in my body. Red meat, alcohol, sugar and gluten all tend to flare up my Eczema and so in the new year, I will enjoy these in moderation. Secondly, I will add to my fighting arsenal. This past year, I took countless boxing classes and have since developed a very basic understanding of the fundamentals. I feel calmer and more confident knowing with each jab, hook and uppercut I'm becoming more capable of protecting myself and the people I love. In the new year, I will couple boxing with a new practice: Aikido. It's a Japanese martial art comprised of throwing, joint-locking and striking. My first class beings in early January and I couldn't be more excited. Thirdly, I will be a better partner to Kace. I love Kace and I want to spend my life with her but I also recognize that like happiness, a good, healthy relationship doesn't just fall into one's lap. You must work on both yourself and on the relationship constantly. I want to always be a safe place for Kace but I can't be a safe place for her if I'm not first a safe place for myself. I've stepped back into therapy this year and with each session, I'm feeling more secure. In the new year, I will continue to reach inward so that I can better open my arms outward for her and the people that I love. Fourthly, I will be a more patient individual. When we think of patience, we think of a monk quietly meditating in the Himalayas with a gentle smile etched across his face. But, patience is not passive. Patience is practice. Patience looks more like getting antsy in line at a coffee shop, wanting to tell the indecisive person in front of you to hurry the fuck up but instead reminding yourself that it's a perfect time to practice. To become more patient, we must practice being patient in the moments when we have every excuse in the world not to be. Let's move on to work. Work. The reality of doing ambitious work is that it doesn't always work. That being said, this year was a year filled with ambitious projects that didn't necessarily achieve ambitious results. I wrote and independently released my third book of poetry and prose, [Guillotine](. It flopped and I have yet to recover the $10k I invested in it. I stopped Chasing Hemingway (my paid newsletter) after its subscribership took a nose-dive. I started and ultimately killed [The Machina Project]( after its 53rd issue. And, I lost my ass in the stock market. There were some wins though, too. I dropped four spoken word pieces: [Swimming Pools](, [Warrior](, [Eugene]( and [Alarms](. While few people listened, I felt like I really stretched myself as a writer. I wrote [186 articles](, 48 essays and a fuck ton of poetry (including "[A lifetime of coffees with you](" which I consider to be me at my best). I ran three separate writing cohorts taught entirely via email that became the backbone of what is today a creative writing course called [Meet Cute](. And, with the help of an incredible community here in Nashville, I played a small part in putting on the second annual [Teddy Bear Ball](, which went on to raise $108,000 for Vanderbilt Children's Hospital. I managed to do all of this while working my day job as an advertising writer––where I slung ink for twenty-two different brands––and traveling the world with Kace. While I had my fair share of both successes and disappointments this year professionally, I can honestly say that there wasn't a single aspect of my work where I pulled a punch. This latter bit is all I can control and I'm discovering, all I am good for. I might get my teeth kicked in but I'll go down swinging. Finally. In the documentary Moonage Daydream, there's a bit of dialogue towards the end of the film where David Bowie reflects on the life he's lived. "I've had an incredible life––I'd love to do it again." When I heard it, it immediately became my ambition for my own life, my love and my work. As I experience all of this in real-time––my life of following my curiosities, my love with Kace and my work as a writer––I can see myself far off on the horizon, looking back at myself with a smile on my face and tears in my eyes, wishing I could do it all again. I'm so very lucky. By [Cole Schafer](. P.S. If you're new to Sticky Notes, you can subscribe [here](. Stocking stuffers starting at just $20. Christmas is just around the corner, which means you need some shit to stuff in the stockings hanging from your mantle... If you love poetry, grab a copy of [One Minute, Please?](, [After Her]( or [Guillotine](. If you're struggling to face your fears, pick up a [brass reminder](. If you're an aspiring writer, enroll in [Meet Cute](. If you're interested in advertising, it's never too cold for [Snow Cones](. If you're looking for lady luck, buy lunch with [Mr. Draper](. 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