OPINION: What is it you plan to do with your one precious and wild life?

Written by Dallas Hyland

From my desk to your screen, I bid you a happy new year. As Josh said in his Publishers Perspective, 2014 was quite a year here at the Indy. We’ve seen some exponential growth and endured the sufferings that come along with it as well as the satisfaction that comes in the form of rewards for hard work. 

Onward and upward.

Looking forward at 2015, there is much work to be done. The articles you will find here will reflect not just the new things to come, but also the continuation of subjects already covered as more developments arise. We remain committed to delivering mindful, relevant, and thought provoking content as well as encouraging a critically thinking readership to get involved. Perhaps even contribute here.

More on this to come.

For me, this year is an embarking on my fifth year as a writer in southern Utah. I have come to define my work as documentary in nature, going as far as to label myself as such. In truth, I never have nor likely will consider myself a reporter in the traditional sense of the of it. Whatever that is.

I would imagine that like yourselves, the new year brings to mind the notion of renewing a commitment to myself and the challenge of leading an examined life. It is on this note I would offer a small insight.

I recently was friended on Facebook by a woman from another country. She messaged me to say hello and her writing revealed in subtle nuances, the vernacular I would hear were we actually speaking, allowing me to be aware of the cultural differences we had. 

She asked me, “So Dallas, what do you do for life?”

Accustomed as I am to the innocuous queries we dole upon people in passing conversation, whether we know them or not, I was pleasantly surprised by her question.

It was not asking what I did for a living, but rather, what I did to live. What gives me life.

Of course, what I do to earn money is encompassed in such an answer but more than that, were I to pay attention to the broader sense of the inquiry, is the notion that I have a choice in not only how I respond to it, but how I respond to the implication that there is more to life than just getting by.

It could aptly be followed with the clarification, “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” 

Asking such questions brings to the forefront the sometimes uncomfortable check-in with myself to see if I am on course. 

There is a writer, Janne Robinson, whom I follow online and is a regular contributor to The Elephant Journal, who captured the sentiment well in a recent post. She said:

“I’m done with traveller small talk. I’m done asking, answering, hearing, “Where are you from? What city? What do you do back home? How long are you here? Where else have you been? Where’s your favourite spot so far?” It’s expected, it’s surface, it’s mundane, it’s boring, it’s repetitive. I’m now going to ask people, “What don’t you do? What’s your definition of happiness? What are you afraid of? Do you want to go home? Do you enjoy your job? Really? When was the last time you were in love?” Why waste a breath, or a moment? We are here to see and be seen.”

And there is the rub right?

For me personally, and I’d wager for most others, writing is an arduous process which requires more of me than I am sometimes prepared to give. It is, to paraphrase Hugh Prather, a series of ambiguous victories and vague defeats with very few moments of clear peace. A worthwhile struggle but a struggle nonetheless and one that seems to never end.

But much like the intentionality required to truly take people in, listen to their stories, and care that they are there, writing requires that the writer care not only of the quality of their work, but the well being of those who read it.

To this, we here at the Indy aspire. Happy New Year.