This mortal life swings between lonely misery and loving paradise

By David McElroy · July 10, 2021

As I left dinner Saturday, it was about an hour before sunset. There had been a brief rainstorm, but there was a sudden break in the clouds — and the sunlight danced over the glistening world around me.

In the wet sparkle of water and light, the colors were vivid and everything was beautiful, like a triumphant scene from a movie. The world around me felt gorgeous and perfect. In those moments, I was in love with this life on Earth.

And then my attention shifted to some rude and uncouth people near me. I looked over in the car seat next to me and saw the mail from the IRS which arrived Friday, demanding that I pay another $300. And I thought of walking into the house right after opening the letter — and finding Molly dead.

In that moment, life felt unhappy and solitary. It felt miserable.

As I drove toward home, I found myself trying to resolve the extremes which I had just felt. Is this world a lonely and miserable place that’s our personal hell? Or is it a beautiful and amazing place of ecstasy that’s a personal paradise.

And in a blinding flash, I realized that it’s both — and I realized it can’t be paradise unless we’ve also experienced it as a hell.

There are times when I experience horrible unhappiness and loneliness and despair about the world around me. Those are times when I fear there’s no hope for this mortal world, when I think nothing can make it better — and that the razor-thin veneer of civilization is going to break down at any moment.

I’ve written about my own times of darkness and loneliness and despair — the time I’ve wondered whether I could ever again experience the good things which I long for.

But every time I feel those ways, I’m drawn toward hope — and sometimes even faith — for the very things which I know will change my world. And I know that if I hadn’t experienced those things, I wouldn’t know how to have hope. I wouldn’t know how to experience faith.

Most of all, I couldn’t experience any of these things if I had never known what it felt like to know love and connection with another human being.

For me, the antidote to all of what ails me about the world is found in love and connection. But I also see that knowing what it’s like to live without them — in a horribly fallen world — is what makes those special times so important to me.

I crave the feelings I’ve had before. I crave the feeling that I’m loved and valued. I crave the belief that I am connected to a partner who is one with me.

I crave the privilege of expressing love and appreciation for such a person. I crave the simple ability to do things for her, to express love, concern and caring. I crave having an outlet for the best of what I have to offer.

But I wouldn’t know how much those things mean to me — and how empty life is without them — if I had never lived without them.

This isn’t a new insight. I’m not the first to notice this. I’ve even realized it in the past. But in those few minutes which I found myself swinging from feeling love for the world and feeling despair about the fallen world, I experienced the lesson all over again.

As I thought about this and drove home, the clouds returned and the sky was dark again. It was time for sunset and I pulled over to wait at the top of a hill to see if any beauty appeared. I didn’t think it would, because the skies were dark and gray.

Suddenly, I saw a faint orange glow on the horizon. In another minute, it grew. In three or four minutes, it created a brilliant orange glad that was pink and purple around the edges.

It was just a sudden patch of brilliant color breaking through the gray clouds. And in that moment, the world was beautiful again.

I need gray skies. I need times of fallow solitude. I need to know what it feels like to hurt and to be lonely. That’s how I know how much I need change.

But as I sit here watching a life which is more dark and gray than I want it to be, my eyes are watching the sky. I’m hoping — I’m praying — for the colorful glow of love and connection to return.

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When I first told you about the project that would become DavidMcElroy.TV, I thought it would launch by mid-May. Since today is the last day of May — and I’m still not close to launching a finished product — here’s a brief update. The graphic above is the latest rough mockup of the format, but it’s still subject to change. Even the logo isn’t yet set in stone. Motion graphics are really difficult when you’re starting from scratch. Sunday night, my camera stopped recording, so it has to be sent off for repair. I have an older camera that I’ll keep using for testing, but I can’t launch without the better one. The audio system developed a low buzz this weekend that has me puzzled. I’ll be taking all the equipment over to the home of a local audio engineer who’s volunteered to help me figure out what I’ve done wrong. On top of all that, my on-camera performance seems to get worse with each test I do. There are days when I think I’m crazy to be attempting this. And in truth, I probably am insane to do it, but being crazy has never stopped me before. I’m at least a month away from launch and it could be a few months. Thanks for being patient — and thanks for all the support and enthusiasm for the project that you’ve sent my way.

I received the first dose of a COVID-19 vaccine Monday — and I’m happy to report that I’m neither dead nor a zombie controlled by Bill Gates and Co. Eligibility was recently opened in Alabama to everyone who’s 16 or older, so I signed up for the Pfizer vaccine at a site run by a local university. I know this is a political issue for a lot of people, but that honestly baffles me. We can disagree about whether such a vaccine should be mandatory — which I’m against — but as a voluntary choice, it seems like an easy choice now that it’s been safely given to millions of people. Is it a perfect preventative? Of course not. But the decision seemed obvious to me when looking at the statistics and evidence. I haven’t had any of the side effects that some people have experienced, but that’s supposed to be more of an issue after the second dose, which I’ll get on May 3. In the meantime, I’ll let you know if I grow a third arm — or if the secret microchip kicks in and someone starts trying to control me remotely. All kidding aside, getting the vaccine seems like a rational voluntary choice to me.

I get a lot of email from readers. Some of it is fascinating and useful. Some of it is full of confessions that people want to share with a stranger. Some people write to ask advice. What’s really surprising, though, is the small percentage that seems to come from mentally unbalanced people. When I started using the metaphor about being an alien — the tagline at the top of each page here — it never occurred to me that I’d start hearing from people who took it seriously. But every few months, I get a strange email — such as the one above from a few months back — from someone who seems to think I’m claiming to be an actual alien. The first time it happened, I laughed. By the time it became a semi-regular thing, I was simply appalled. For the record, I can provide no proof that I’m an alien, because … well … it’s just a metaphor. I do feel like an alien among human beings, but as far as I know, I’m just as earthbound as you are. It’s just a metaphor. Honest. Or at least, that’s what my lizard-beast overlords told me to say.

After Tampa Bay, Fla., musician Colt Clark had all of his gigs canceled last year for months on end, the entire family felt trapped at home as most of the world was on quarantine lockdown. His wife, Aubree, had an idea that would let Colt make music and involve the whole family in making music videos to share with their friends and family on Facebook. Aubree is a photographer and homeschooling mom to a daughter and two sons, who range in age from 6 to 11. After their friends started asking to share the videos, they made the performances public — and a few of them are now on YouTube, where they go by the name of Colt Clark and the Quarantine Kids. The younger son, Becket, is on drums. The older boy, Cash, plays keyboards, strings and guitars. Dad supplies lead vocals and plays guitar, while 6-year-old Bellamy mostly dances but sometimes does backup vocals. There’s even a dog who makes an occasional appearance. The Clark family has just raised the bar for what I need to create with my future children. And best of all, they seem to be having a great time together. I hope they make you as happy as they make me.

Have you ever wondered how the social media world works for so-called “influencers”? I find it comical, so I thought I’d share with you. I frequently get offers such as what I’m about to describe. And if I’m getting such offers — as a relative nobody in the online world — you can only imagine what people with huge audiences are offered. It starts with an email appealing to my ego: “We came across your online presence and we LOVE your style. We’d love to have you as one of our Brand Ambassadors. To celebrate our new [Brand Name] collection, we want to give you a FREE Watch so you can post a picture of you wearing it and drive more exposure to our brand.” Did you hear that? They love me. They want me to be seen wearing their cheap $59 watch so other people will think, “If this amazing influencer wears that, surely I should buy one.” They even offer me commissions on the watches sold from people clicking from my site. So the next time you see some alleged “influencer” touting something online or on social media, remember that this is what it’s probably all about. It’s laughable.

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