I am terrified to write today.

I am staring intently at a cobalt blue Bud Light keychain bottle opener that is laying lying resting on the desk in front of me. I am telling myself that if I can just get through this essay, if I can just get to the point where I feel comfortable posting it on my blog, I can reward myself with one four ten of the Negra Modelos that are currently chilling in my fridge. The only reason I’m writing is because I really need a fucking beer. (Oh, stop with the judgment! If my lover’s name was Zelda and strangers asked me, “Do friends call you ‘F’ or ‘Scott’?”, then a)it would be gin and b)I’d already be drunk. Not that I’m comparing myself to Mr. Fitzgerald. I’m merely reminiscing about an earlier, more innocent time, when blogging was new, no topic was off-limits, and everyone who did it was an alcoholic. Plus, I never really got into Fitzgerald. Or Hemingway. I preferred Sinclair. And Dreiser. Drunks. All of them. <wait for laughter here>)

The reason fear is gurgling up in me like pureed carrots in an over-fed baby is because I feel like I’m On The Verge of Something. Only I don’t know what it is, I don’t know how to express it, and there is a good possibility that it is going to Evaporate before I have a chance to Pull My Shit Together.

What I did realize today is that I need to take smaller bites of the apple. That is what I told myself as I diligently put my left blinker on as I slowed to a stop waiting to turn onto McClure Circle. “You need to take smaller bites of the apple, Laurie.” I can only assume that means the Something I’m On The Verge of is a very large piece of fruit. Figuratively Allegorically Metaphorically speaking.

So, (lucky for you), I am not–not today, at least–going to attempt to expound on the entire Something that is percolating in my brain. For starters, I am not nearly skilled enough to compose such a thing. And, for another, I’ve only recently, as in the past week or so, realized that I’m even onto Something. I haven’t figured out what exactly that Something is. But Something is in there. And I am going to try very hard to fertilize it, gestate it, and then give birth to it. From my brain. After which I will make a placenta smoothie and drink it. (Okay, what? That was uncalled for. And if I weren’t running purely on fear and adrenaline and a thirst for cold, cold beer, I would totally erase this entire paragraph. Placenta. I mean, ewww. Grow up, Laurie. Jesus.)

One step I took towards getting closer to expressing Something is that I stopped at an Office Depot today and paid entirely too much money for pens and a composition notebook. But, they are very nice pens. All twelve of them. Even though I just needed the one. (Editor’s Note: If you’re running short on time, you can just simply skip this paragraph. It is completely unnecessary. Laurie was simply excited that she bought new pens. It is in no way relevant to the topic at hand.)

As my metabolism since I’ve started “eating right” (sometimes) and “working out” (I can sometimes do 17 push-ups! In a row!) has begun to speed up, I now constantly feel like an elephant shrew that has to eat something every three hours or else I’m going to die. So, after I bought my writing utensils, I stopped off at a taco shop. (Today not being one of my “eating right” days.) I opened up the notebook and began to jot a few thoughts down. THERE IS A REASON THAT I AM TELLING YOU THIS. So, please, stop playing Candy Crush and just read this one thing. I won’t be too much longer. I expect to be drunk in less than an hour.

Here’s what I wrote:

I have to believe that most of us–those who are not so poverty-stricken that existence is nothing more than a vicious, desperate struggle for survival, leaving little room to contemplate existential questions or ponder the transcendental nature of the universe–strive for harmony and the divine. It is a noble goal. The problem arises partly from the fact that every person has their own definition of what those words mean, and they have very different visions of how to achieve them.

CAN YOU NOT SEE HOW THAT IS A VERY BIG SOMETHING TO CONTEMPLATE?

I probably did NOT need to shout at you just then. But, it’s been more than three hours since I ate. And, you don’t know this, but I deleted a big ol’ “FUCKING” from that sentence, just for you. So, you know. I’m trying, my friend. I’m trying.

But it is a lot to carry around in my wee little head. And I’m not thinking of these things because I have to write a grant paper or turn in a report on the state of bliss for the Pew Research Center or something. There is no reason in the world for me to be contemplating Harmony. Or the Divine. Or any other band led by Smokey Robinson. But I am. And, (lucky for you), someday you’ll get to read just what exactly I think about it.

See, here’s the thing, though:

After filling my small intestine with jalapenos, cheese, and Diet Coke, I headed to the library. I had a book waiting there for me to check out. I had ordered Flow by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. (I will succeed in reaching Harmony & the Divine when I can pronounce that name flawlessly without a moment’s hesitation.) Don’t ask me WHY I requested this book. I have absolutely no idea. I don’t even remember what compelled me to search for it. Perhaps someone recommended it to me. If so, the moment that happened escapes me. Perhaps it was on the NY Times Bestseller List. Turns out this book was written in 1990. So, you know. If it’s still on the Bestseller List it must be very good. The subtitle is “The Psychology of Optimal Experience,” and I’ve grown comfortable enough in my skin over the past year that that didn’t sound New-Agey to me and didn’t creep me out.

When I got home with the book, I notice that the chapters are very detailed. The contents of the final chapter caught my eye. So, I flip to Cultivating Purpose on page 218.

Please remember <look up> what I had just written not more than an hour before I ever set eyes on this book.

I would very much like to simply transcribe the six pages that I read, slack-jawed, dumbfounded, leaning on my kitchen counter. But, of course, I cannot do that. For one, I am pretty sure that is against the rules of publishing. For two, I told you I would be drunk by now. As the saying goes, ain’t nobody got time for that. But here is the first paragraph:

In the lives of many people it is possible to find a unifying purpose that justifies the things they do day in, day out–a goal that like a magnetic field attracts their psychic energy, a goal upon which all lesser goals depend. This goal will define the challenges that a person needs to face in order to transform his or her life into a flow activity. Without such a purpose, even the best-ordered consciousness lacks meaning.

I know, right? Sexier than 50 Shades of Grey, am I right, ladies? So, he (I assume Mihaly is a man’s name) elaborates–he talks about the different ultimate goals that have satisfied cultures, and he mentions different meaning systems that cultures have had. He then proceeds to cite someone named Pitrim Sorokin, (Who I also assume is a man. Not that it matters. Except that I find these names to be strangely lyrical and beautiful.), who divides all of Western Civilization into three types of meaning systems: sensate, ideational, and idealistic. <Stay with me, friend. Stay with me..> It’s really fascinating. <It really is!>

He then starts to discuss the psychology of the steps human beings need to take in order to achieve their ultimate goals. He said that the first step is each person needs to preserve themselves and their basic goals. If they can get to the point where their physical safety is no longer in doubt, then they can move onto to embracing the values of their community–their family, their neighborhood, their church, etc. He states that this leads to something called reflective individualism, which in turn leads to the final step, which is a turning away from one’s individual self “back toward an integration with other people and with universal values.” (That means you reached the harmonious and the divine, basically.)

I know, right? I agree, it is totally intense. Well, it’s not my book to lend, but you can totally check it out at your local library.

The part that sent shivers down my spine was just a little further along, after he has explained the stages people go through when attempting to merge with the whole. Let me just quote it for you. And, again–please remember what I wrote down as I was shoving a quesadilla in my face:

Not everyone moves through the stages of this spiral of ascending complexity. A few never have the opportunity to go beyond the first step. When survival demands are so insistent that a person cannot devote much attention to anything else, he or she will not have enough psychic energy left to invest in the goals of the family or of the wider community. Self-interest alone will give meaning to life.

I know, right?

So. I write down a random thought that has been percolating in my brain and less than an hour later I’m staring at the much more eloquent expression of those very same thoughts in a book that I had never opened before.

I don’t know what it means, either. Part of me feels exhilarated–that this Something that is in my brain has been studied and mapped and is understood by psychologists from around the globe. I can seek out this topic at the library! I can learn! I can become more enlightened! Yay for me! Part of me feels deflated–that this Something has been studied and mapped and is understood by psychologists from around the globe. You’re not educated enough to talk about this! No one cares what you think! Smarter people than you have already covered this topic! Suppress the need you have to discuss it! And, of course, part of me feels terrified. Because I AM On The Verge of Something. Maybe I will never be able to successfully write about it. But maybe I’ll grow to understand it, which will help me on my journey to find Harmony & the Divine. (9PM Eastern/8PM Central this fall on TNT.) Knowledge and self-realization can be terrifying sometimes.

Which is why a bigger part of me REALLY needs a drink.