My brother and me
Used to climb this tree
We were gonna build a little clubhouse
'Bout ten feet off the ground
We drew the whole thing up
Needed wood and our dad's truck
But he was out of work that summer
The truck only had one gear
He said, we'll do it next year
My buddies and me
We have this dream
We were gonna rent this cabin way up in Montana
We were gonna fish
We had the date all picked
Then my old man got sick and the plan kinda disappeared
But we'll do it next year
Another day down, another week gone
You're always just talkin' about tomorrow
You can't beg, steal, borrow
Or make time
So you make plans and hope for the best
Life moves on so damn fast
Another twelve months flies on by, you're still here
But it's never quite next year
My little boy and me
We were out to eat
And he said I can't wait 'til next year
When I asked him why he said cause we're goin' campin'
We're goin' to the ballgame
And we'll do all them other things you said we'd do next year
So when is it next year?
Another day down, another week gone
You're always just talkin' about tomorrow
You can't beg, steal, borrow
Or make time
So you make plans and hope for the best
Life moves on so damn fast
Another twelve months flies on by, you're still here
But it's never quite next year
No it's never quite next year
My old man
He was fadin' fast
He said I think I'd like to go see that Grand Canyon
So we just left
Packed up the car and went
I called in sick to work, we drove 'til three a.m.
There ain't no next year
Another day down, another week gone
You're always just talkin' about tomorrow
You can't beg, steal, borrow
Or make time
So you make plans and hope for the best
Life moves on so damn fast
Another twelve months flies on by, you're still here
But it's never quite next year
No it's never quite next year
No it's never quite next year
It's never quite next year

So, when is it next year?

Next year seems to be something I say to put distance between myself and something I look forward to or dread having to do. Next year I want to backpack in Patagonia for a month but it’s not appropriate right now—I need to save money first, vacation time so I have a job when I get back, and I need to plan a route. I’ll tell my friends and family I love them next year because I’m not courageous enough to tell them now. I need to plan—I need to figure out how to get out of my head; to overcome that nagging feeling holding me back from expressing my feelings.

No, it’s never quite next year.

With the intention of making plans in place, I now wait for next year. I continue to go to work and say that next year I’m going on a trip. First I need to save and plan, but, believe me, next year I’m going to explore jagged mountains and alpine lakes and sleep with my eyes wide open under the stars. In my head, I say that next year I’ll have overcome whatever keeps me from getting closer to the people closest to me. I just need to figure it out first. Once I figure it out, they’ll forgive me for delaying, for being distant and ostensibly not interested in their lives.

There ain’t no next year.

There really is no next year, especially if we rely on intentions. Intentions are subconscious tidbits of programming that hopefully manifest into action. Intentions are the kinetic energy of life. My backpacking trip will remain an intention if I don’t actively plan. I need to start right now. The trip does not begin when I land somewhere in Patagonia. It begins now by actively thinking about my budget, vacation days, and hiking routes. As those elements come together, the conditions for the physical act of backpacking in Patagonia come into clear focus, reality. My inhibitions for expressing gratitude, joy, and love will always remain if I don’t put in the work right now to understand the restraints to express my appreciation for others.

So, next year starts right now!

Dream, sacrifice, victory | Intention, action, satisfaction

End of day reflection (ask yourself these questions and non-judgmentally observe your answers):

Of the handful of weightiest things I did today, how many were motivated by greed, anger, or not actually understanding the situation?
How many times today did satisfying my sense of desire really make me happy?
How often today, in situations where I was uncomfortable, did my discomfort come from not wanting something to change (from wanting the thing to remain the same or not end)?