Having just celebrated the most American of holidays, the Fourth of July, I’m torn between colliding and seemingly disparate philosophies of life, “be here now” and “the American dream”. After all, we’re free to pursue our slice of the dream no matter how constraining.  Embodying this disparity, this dualism, I have for the longest while believed it was just me and the other me, battling it out for supremacy and dictatorial control of my psyche’. “Irregardless” as my grandmother was prone to say, this dualing of selves, this separatist mentality with its emotional weight anchors me to the bottom like the bright orange dory tethered to safety and security in Provincetown harbor.

As a tourista one week a year, a driver and contributor to the local economy, and by extension, a supporter of the Arts, I know nothing of the person who we’ve tagged, the “orange dory man”, the vessels owner. We have a deep and enduring relationship with this little boat, and when first catching a glimpse of the orange dory upon our arrival, we know we have found our vacation home. Images of this vessel graced the walls of our Florida home, and have made their way to land locked Tennessee. The view of the orange dory from our deck overlooking Provincetown harbor, will be the gathering spot for the annual celebration of America’s birth, with red, white, and blue covering almost every inch of planking.  Amid the bursts and booms of celebratory fireworks and the attendant oohs and ahhs that the pyrotechnics generate, I will undoubtedly be anchored solemnly, weighted down with over analysis of how I’ve measured up or down with American attainment and accomplishment.  If only I could turn off the noise of my voices, or at least listen to the smaller, fainter part of me that has hope.  Living in the moment, experiencing the peace of just being and enjoying, would not only loosen the stricture of self doubt, but would seem to be antithetical to the drive and determination, the bigger, better, more, pursuits of the American dream.  How do I reconcile where I am right now, the crushing weight of a life of what I deem unrealized potential, with the indoctrinated Madison Avenue desire to attain the epitome of success and happiness?  So while those competing mindsets swirl around like the orange dory in the harbor, straining against it’s mooring, I’m left paralyzed by analysis, and longing for a life yet imagined, instead of the life that is mine, right now, right here today.  If I choose to just be, have I given in? Have I succumbed? Have I made excuses for my lack of accomplishment?  Perhaps I can just decide to cut myself some slack, give myself a break, and not take it all with such stultifying seriousness.  I’ve been done unto to, and I have done unto myself.  I’ve been told I was a failure, and I’ve failed on my own.  I’ve made some foolish life decisions, and I’ve fought hart to stand and recover.  My life has been filled with fireworks from within and without.  Most importantly, I have the freedom to create the life I envision.  “Be her now” or the “American dream”, either way, they’re part of each other, and as we have recently celebrated the most American of holidays, I am here now, contemplating my slice of the American dream.