I had a disturbing conversation the other day with a close family member. I think he wishes we would spend more time together but he had a strange way of trying to motivate me towards that.
He was showing one of his recent projects to someone else on his phone and said "Cullen could do that stuff but he chooses not to".
For a nanosecond I imagined that I was getting some acceptance of the fact that we all have different pleasures in life, and some measure of respect that my passions were different to his.
Fool I am. The very next words were "so when are you going to give up skydiving -- you know you're separating yourself from everybody by doing this". I'm sure that in some way he means well.
What is shame. The one thing that he thinks might bring us together actually driving us apart.
A good friend just died young. It was a situation where three hours extra of consciousness would have been a lifetime.
That extra three hours would have been spent with the people he truly loved or doing a thing that inflamed his passion. Not putting up a lean-to roof (or similar) with people he thought were ok. So that they were happier.
The thing I took away from that is that even a half an hour spent doing something that somebody else likes for no other reason that they want me to?
Not gonna happen.