A very short essay, after a poem by G.M. Hopkins
Myself unhappy, from myself unhappy to the sweet living of my friends I look. They are online, on demand, on diets; I am downcast and downtrodden. Nothing I do and no track of my thoughts frees me from the sultry siege of melancholy, this endless and friendless flight through a trackless wood.
So I download an app. I take a personality test, or three. I polish my personal brand. My metrics improve. My life begins to lighten. I am important, organized, optimized, informed. I am affirmed, accomplished, aspirational, inspirational. I tell my story, share your story, participate in the Discourse.
I am getting stuff done and I am saving money and I am reaching out to people and I am managing my calendar and I am expressing my views and I am growing my network and I am connecting with my loved ones and I am pursuing self-actualization and I am parenting my children and I am tracking my activity and I am updating my professional profile and I am automating, I am exercising, I am checking in and checking out. I am documenting my personal development in my authentic voice. I am a biohacker and a content creator; I have a long tail.
My life is full, my time is spoken for, and my success is assured.
The clock ticks off the hours. Outside, the nuthatches stir in the first light, and a trace of cloud flits across the moon.
(originally published on Substack)
Matt Miller
Matt Miller, a native Nebraskan, teaches English at College of the Ozarks in Point Lookout, Missouri. He is the author of an essay collection on the garden year and the church year, titled Leaves of Healing: A Year in the Garden, from Belle Point Press.
